


standstill

by talktothesky



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame Rewrite, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Falling In Love, Grief/Mourning, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Nebula & Tony Stark Friendship, POV Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Recovery, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 70,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talktothesky/pseuds/talktothesky
Summary: The fight never ends.This is something Tony has always known. Or at least something Tony has known ever since he first became Iron Man.The fight never ends but the fight has ended him, this time.Thanos has ended it all but, how are they supposed to move on?(or theAvengers: Endgamerewrite where Steve and Tony's love might change everything and maybe, just maybe, they get their happy ending.)





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, everyone, to my _Avengers: Endgame_ rewrite! Needless to say, this fic contains major spoilers for the movie so if you haven't seen it yet I recommend you turn back and come back after you have done so.
> 
> The plan for this story is all written down and according to it the story is going to have 7 chapters, although it might be subject to change depending on how long the chapters get and if I want to add any other scene I haven't yet thought of.
> 
> I really, really loved Endgame and I think we Stonies have been blessed with the amount of content the film gives us. Having now seen it twice, I've come to terms with all it happens in it and with the end we've been offered for both Steve and Tony. As a Stony shipper and as a writer, though, I couldn't help but leave the movie thinking, "What things would change if this was the movie where Steve and Tony really did fell in love? What things would I have done differently?" And so, this fic was born.
> 
> I will be adding tags as the story progresses to not spoil everything that is going to happen in the story.
> 
> I want to thank Lu and Jaime for their constant support and for beta-ing this chapter. All mistakes are mine and probably due to the fact that English is not my first language.
> 
> I'll try to post chapter 2 as soon as humanly possible, hopefully in about 10 days, but I can't make any promises.
> 
> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://natpeggy.tumblr.com).)

Being in space reminds Tony of being in Afghanistan. 

Objectively speaking, the two couldn’t be more different but Tony still feels in his bones like this is all some kind of big and sick deja vu, like the universe has never gotten over any of his past transgressions and is trying to punish him by making him relive one of the worst experiences of his entire existence.

Temperature in Afghanistan was always dramatic. During the day it was scorching, even when he wasn’t directly exposed to the sun. It was so blazing that Tony feared his skin would break out in blisters and burns. But at night the cave always got so cold that Tony could barely sleep because of the shivers that raked his body. 

Temperature in space seems to always be dramatic too. Space during the time that coincides with when he’s awake -because it can’t exactly be called daytime- is cold and when the time comes around for him to lay down space is so hot he can feel sweat roll down his forehead as he tries to fall asleep with his jacket bundled up under his head. Well, that’s not true, space is neither hot nor cold, at least not that Tony can tell. The spaceship that Tony is traveling in _is,_ though. So cold and then so hot. Or a least that’s how he feels it.

Distance in space seems daunting. Space is vast. They’ve been floating aimlessly for about 20 days and it never seems to end. Every part of it ends up looking the same to him. He knows they pass several celestial bodies -constellations, uninhibited planets. comets- and yet it’s like they’re moving through a black vast desert. 

Distance in Afghanistan always seemed daunting too. Afghanistan and its real desert. Afghanistan and its endless dunes. Afghanistan and its infinite sea of sand. 

Time in Afghanistan moved in a confusing pattern: it was work and fear and a weirdly formed companionship with Yinsen. 

Time in space seems to move in a confusing pattern too: it’s trying to fix the ship and fear and a weirdly formed companionship with Nebula. 

Afghanistan and space also stand for loneliness. Yes, there is the comparison of those two unlikely allies Tony couldn't have conjured in his mind in a hundred years, but the loneliness still eats away at him. 

He gives up fighting the regrets that keep trying to take over his mind and just lets them feast. In Afghanistan most of them had to do with having spent most of his life in a drunken haze, not having been a good enough friend to Rhodey and not having been honest about his growing feelings for Pepper. Space awakens in him this relentless grief about Peter and his failure to protect him. Space is also witness to his despair over not having been able to help Rhodey better and not having been able to keep his promises to Pepper. 

Space also makes him finally admit -at least to himself in the safety of his own mind- every one of his regrets about Steve. He moves between the regret of having trusted him and the regret of not having contacted him. The regret of having met him and the regret of not having been able to say goodbye. 

Space and Afghanistan couldn’t be further apart and yet Tony feels like in the past 10 years he hasn’t actually moved at all, that he’s still that irredeemable man that lived his live without having made any positive impact on anyone. 

He still feels like that man who killed everything and everyone he touched. 

 

_______________________________

 

“That’s another point for you.”

Nebula’s face subtly lights up and Tony’s surprised to recognize and understand the expression instantly. 

Only a week or so ago he wouldn’t have been able to detect the change that happens when Nebula goes from indifferent to somewhat content. Only a week or so ago he wasn't able to tell when Nebula went from her usual annoyance at their current situation to truly mad and wanting to be left alone. But a week has given Tony insight on her, her moods, her gestures, her needs… More than 20 days with only Nebula for company have made Tony somewhat of an expert on her.

And as terrifying and uncomfortable as it is to think about it, Nebula has also become somewhat of an expert at reading Tony. She knows when to push him to keep trying to find a solution to their problems and she knows when to let him go to that dark place in his mind where all hope is lost.

They’re attuned to each other now, whether they like it or not, and Tony thinks that, as much as he hates the situation, there could be worse people to be stuck with on a stranded ship moving across the universe with no real aim or direction.

Tony moves to pick up the piece of paper they’ve using to play paper football from the floor and returns to his place in front of Nebula. 

“Okay, so if I score now we’re tied, alright? But if I don’t that means you win,” Tony says. “Let’s see what happens.”

Nebula nods and her face goes back to that blank look of concentration as she starts rearranging her body in a wider stance while positioning her hands in the shape Tony taught her 8 days into their trip, when boredom was getting to be too much for both of them.

Tony finds it amusing but if there’s one thing he has learnt from his time aboard the ship this past twenty-something days is that laughing at Nebula for whatever reason would be a terrible idea. 

“Let’s go then,” Tony says. 

He lets a couple of seconds pass and, as his fingers move towards the piece of paper, he deliberately hits it incorrectly, making it fly a little too far to the left, missing Nebula’s goal post by a wide stretch. 

Nebula’s face stretches into a wide smile and she moves as if to put her arms up in victory before she seems to remember herself. The smile disappears from her face but Tony can still see the slight upturn of her lips and the absence of her usual frown is also a dead giveaway of her momentary happiness. 

Nebula clears her throat, “You were a good contender, Stark.”

Tony bites his bottom lip to prevent himself from letting out a soft laugh but he can feel the smile grazing his lips. He extends his hand and waits a couple seconds while Nebula looks at it, obviously debating internally whether to take it or not. 

Slowly but surely Nebula reaches across the table between them and takes his hand, shaking it firmly once, twice, and then letting go. 

“I’ll take my rematch tomorrow,” says Tony and this brings Nebula’s frown back.

Neither of them can be sure there is a tomorrow in the horizon. They both know there is a possibility they won’t make it another day, and by the way things are going, it’s obvious Tony is the one closest to the abyss. 

“Stark…,” Nebula starts but Tony interrupts her before she can say anything else.

“I said I will take my rematch tomorrow and that’s what I will do,” Tony says. “We’re going to sleep now and tomorrow I’ll win and the day after that… Well, we’ll see what happens the day after that.”

His words come out raspy and breathy, as if his lungs are tired from just uttering those two sentences out-loud, which they are. 

Oxygen is running out and Tony can feel it in every inch of his body. 

His hands ache and he has to constantly flex his fingers just to be sure he still has mobility in them. His feet hurt when he spends more than 30 minutes on them and his entire legs tingle unpleasantly  no matter how much he massages them. But the worst part of it all are the headaches. They’ve been getting progressively worse and they make it unbearable to even try and think. 

Oxygen is running out and neither Nebula nor Tony know if they’re going to be waking up tomorrow or if their bodies will finally give up on them, but Tony still bids Nebula good night as he’s done for the past three weeks. 

He says it as if they were for sure going to be seeing each other tomorrow. 

He says it as if he still had any trace of hope in him.

 

_______________________________

 

Getting to his designated side of the spaceship takes too much effort and as soon as he gets there he lets his back meet the wall and he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, his legs extended in from of him, his arms hanging uselessly by both sides of his body. 

He’s still breathing heavily through his mouth but his lungs still burn from the need of oxygen. 

He feels dizzy but it’s almost an afterthought, having grown used to it the past couple days. It almost reminds him of the days he would spend locked up in his workshop so absorbed in one of his projects he would forget to eat for hours at a time. The sensation is not exactly the same but that memory is better than remembering how dizzy he’d be after getting waterboarded those first few days in Afghanistan. 

Tony swallows, even though his mouth feels droughty, and the sound is incredibly loud in the stillness of the cockpit. 

He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes and when he opens them the Iron Man helmet is staring back at him from its position in front of the opposite wall. It takes him maybe an entire minute to will his limbs to move enough to place himself closer to it, his hands now at grabbing distance. 

The helmet is useless to him now, no way to communicate with Earth, or any other planet for that matter, no masterful plan FRIDAY can concoct to get him out of this mess, no life-saving of any kind. And yet, simply having it close to him makes Tony feel a little more at ease, a little more complete. 

His left hand reaches inside the broken part of the helmet and blindly feels for the button he’s searching for. It only takes a few seconds and as he presses it a blue scanner light comes from one of the eye plates, moving through Tony’s body and lightly blinking once, signaling that a recording is being made. 

For a second Tony thinks of pressing the button again and not doing it. It seems like resignation and giving up and admitting to himself that this it it, the end, no more coming back from it. But his fear trumps his pride for once and he takes a deep breath before he starts to speak.

The fewer regrets he takes with him the more peaceful it will feel, he hopes.

“Hey, Pep,” he starts. “Actually… Hey, everyone. I don’t kn- I don’t even know who will see this recording. I don’t even know who’s—“ His voice breaks and his eyes water but he closes them firmly, refusing to let the tears fall. “I don’t even know who’s still there.”

Tony opens his eyes again and stares straight into the helmet, imagining those aren’t lifeless eyes staring back at him.

“I don’t want to admit it but I think this may be it, the last opportunity I have to say anything at all.  We’re running our of oxygen and I think I can feel it coming.… I…,” Tony pauses and a bitter laugh escapes his lips after around 15 seconds. “The last opportunity I have to say whatever it is I need to say and I, for once, am speechless. What a fucking irony.”

Tony looks to the side and space is there, awaiting his gaze, so dark and so bright all at once. 

“I tried,” Tony sighs. “I tried and I failed, but I swear I tried.  it’s not enough, but I wish it was.”

The stars blink back at him and Tony selfishly imagines they’re shining just for him and the thought shames him so much he has to rip his gaze away from them.

Taking a deep breath he continues his speech, even if he’s not sure where it is going.

“Pep, I just want to say… I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things but I guess I’m most of all sorry for not keeping my promise that there would be no more surprises. This must be a pretty big surprise. I wish my surprise could have been coming back to you but… Oh well. I just hope… I don’t know. I guess I hope you’re still okay, and that Rhodey is too and that you’re there together helping each other. I also hope Happy is okay and—“

The image comes so quickly to his mind it’s almost frightening, as if it had always been there, bidding its time, waiting for Tony to finally let his guard down and let it in. 

Steve. 

Steve surely fighting back on Earth because if there’s one thing Steve and Tony have in common is  that neither of them give up a fight, even when it is clearly a hopeless one. 

Is Steve still alive? Did he die fighting Thanos? Did he die during the snap? Did his ashes also sway with the wind as his unbecoming took over him? 

Perhaps that is the worst part of it all, this uncertainty Tony will have to die with, the not knowing if there is anyone, anyone at all that he’s leaving behind. 

He doesn’t know if Pepper will ever have the opportunity to smile again, to roll her eyes exasperatedly like she does every time that annoying pop song she hates plays on the radio. He doesn’t know if there is any chance at all she will be able to love again, to live the life she deserves, to wear that white dress Tony promised her when he put that diamond ring on her finger. 

He doesn’t know if Rhodey is still breathing, if he’s still commanding the attention of every single person that surrounds him with the simple act of being him. If he will fight to create a memorial for Tony. Rhodey, the only person who has always seen him as a hero, even long before he was Iron Man. Should Tony be happy he’s safe? Or should he be mourning his best friend during these last few moments of his life?

He doesn’t know about Happy, and Bruce, and Natasha, and Hill, and Fury. He doesn’t know if Thor ever made it to Earth alive. And what about Clint, and Sam, and Wanda? He doesn’t know about anyone in the world right now. 

He doesn’t know about Steve.

This uncertainty alone could have killed if he wasn’t already dying anyway. 

“Everyone,” he ends up saying. “I hope everyone is okay.”

He can feel it strongly now, the pull towards oblivion and rest. He knows he should be fighting it and he wants to, he want to so much, but he knows he can’t. He’s not powerful enough to resist the siren call and… What would he be fighting for, anyway? The opportunity to live another day in this goddamn awful space ship? 

He just hopes Nebula will forgive him for leaving her alone. He hopes Nebula is alive long enough to forgive him for it. 

“This goodbye video is so terrible, oh my god. I’m sorry for this too. I just wanted to let everyone know that it’s okay, that I’m fine. Whenever you guys receive this - _if_ you guys receive this-, I want you to know that it was peaceful, just like falling asleep. There’s so much more I wish I could have done but the fight is over for me now. It’s all up to you, to whoever it is that’s still out there. Part of the journey is the end and this is mine. I’m okay with it. But don’t let it be yours.”

The helmet stops recording as soon as Tony presses the inside button and, with as much strength as he can muster, Tony pushes it away from him, making it face the wall. 

He feels hot and clammy as if his whole body was submerged in lava. He tries to take off his jacket but his limbs won’t cooperate. They move too slowly, too clumsily, his commands foreign to his every nerve and muscle.

It takes him a while, but as soon as he’s free of the garment he balls it up and places it on the floor, resting his head on top of it. 

He makes his body as small as it can be, his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

He’s losing consciousness now, his eyes closing of their own volition. 

It truly is like falling asleep. Peaceful, effortless, natural.

The last thought he has is more of a prayer.

_Please let me see him one last time. Please let me see Peter one last time. I know I don’t deserve it but please let me see him one last time so I can apologize to him too._

 

_______________________________

 

A light. A bright yellow light. A light so radiant he can see it even with his eyes closed. 

A light. But he’s awake. He feels awake. He feels awake and he’s sat in one of the seats in the cockpit but he was laid down on the floor and asleep. He was asleep. 

This is not how it’s supposed to be like. If there’s a light this isn’t supposed to be how it feels. He fell asleep and the light was supposed to take him but he’s now awake.

A light.

Slowly, Tony opens his eyes and, for a second, everything is so bright it hurts to look at. His hand comes up instinctively to cover up his eyes and protect them but Tony still feels groggy and, above all, confused.

What is this light?

And as soon as the question manifests itself in Tony’s mind the light starts taking shape. Or not… It’s not the light that’s taking shape. It’s a shape making its way through the light, getting closer and closer to the ship. 

The shape is a woman. The light is a woman and she smiles. 

Tony is looking into the light and there’s a woman and she smiles.

Tony closes his eyes again and thinks, _Alive_.

 

_______________________________

 

The light’s name -the _woman’s_ name- is Carol and the first thing she tells Tony after she gets Nebula to open the ship’s door and she makes her way to where Tony is still sat, no energy left in him, is: “Your friends asked me to come get you.”

They don’t have much time to speak but Carol explains, in as little words as possible, something about Fury contacting her, her return to Earth and her meeting with the remaining Avengers.

Steve. Natasha. Bruce. Thor.

They’re alive. 

“I need you to hang tight, Tony. I’m getting you back home but I need you to hang tight just a little longer, okay?”

Tony nods, or at least he thinks he does, and he feels Nebula sit down on the seat next to his. 

“I see what you tried to do and I don’t like it.” 

Nebula’s gaze is fixed forward, to where Carol has exited the ship and is now positioning herself under it until they can no longer see her. 

“You were trying to get out of that rematch tomorrow because you know you will lose again.”

Finally, Nebula’s eyes move towards Tony’s and for the first time in 3 weeks she gives him a true, soft and voluntary smile. 

“Well, now you won’t be able to.”

Tony feels a light graze to his left hand where his arm hangs loosely over the center console. Without moving his head he redirects his gaze and watches as a blue hand grasps his own loosely, clumsily, as if this was a new invention never before seen in the world, as if this was the first time in all of the universe’s history two creatures have ever joined hands.

Nebula has moved her gaze back to the vast space in front of them and Tony takes that as a cue to do the same. 

Everything around them is moving quickly now, nothing like the small stroll they had been doing for the past weeks and Tony, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, starts feeling that warm ache inside him, that overwhelming grip of hope in his heart. 

_I’m going home._

_______________________________

 

As Earth gets closer and closer in their journey and it gets easier to see it in its entirety Tony can immediately spot the differences to when he left it, when he took that last glance back at it before he made his way into that strange alien spaceship, pondering if that was going to be the last time he ever saw it. 

Even after three weeks traveling through space Tony wouldn't consider himself an expert on it but one wouldn’t need to be to be able to catch the devastation the planet has suffered. 

The previously green spots now look more brown than ever and there is a duller sensation that comes from seeing his home planet from the outside. There’s less brilliance, less light, and even though Tony knows Earth has never emitted light before, he wonders if it really has started to shine a little less brightly.

Overwhelmed, Tony has to close his eyes as the ship starts to cross the atmosphere and, after only a few minutes of quiet darkness behind his eyelids, Tony starts to physically feel the ship losing velocity and descend. 

He’s not ready to open his eyes but he feels a hard squeeze in his left hand where it’s still joined with Nebula’s, where they’ve been joined for the whole flight back. He lets a couple of seconds pass before he squeezes back and opens his eyes.

It’s dark out and Tony’s eyesight is still suffering terribly from lack of oxygen but he can make out the shape of the Avengers Compound in front of him, a little blurry, a little distorted, but there. 

His heart gives a painful jolt in his chest and Tony brings his right hand to it, pressing down on the arc reactor as if it was still the cause of his troubles so many years later. 

He thinks he makes a painful noise, close to a sob but not quite, but Nebula doesn’t react to it. She just finally lets go of his hand and he suddenly and inexplicably feels cold. She can’t be feeling particularly well herself but Nebula’s movements are reassured and practical. She presses the button that opens the ship door and Tony can hear the mechanical grinding that must signify a ramp is extending towards the ground.

Carol is back onboard before Nebula is fully out of her seat and between the two of them they pull Tony up and help him stand. He’d feel embarrassed about how much he has to rely on them to take one single step if he still cared about trivial things like pride in his situation. 

The walk towards the outside feels like hours but Tony knows it really only takes seconds as he hears the ramp finally extend entirely. 

By the time he’s stepping out into clear air for the first time in over 20 days Nebula is the one supporting his weight entirely and he feels a burst of energy corse through his veins as the cool night air slams into his face. 

If he looks ahead he can make out blurry shapes in the distance, dark blobs he knows are people but he can’t recognize. There are maybe 6 or 7 of them but Tony’s sight gets tired very quickly of trying to focus so he gives up, redirecting his gaze back to his feet, watching as they drag with every step he takes. 

As Tony, Carol and Nebula are about to step of the ramp, resounding thumps can be heard, getting louder and louder, seemingly getting closer to them. 

As Tony raises his head he can distinctively make out a shape coming towards them at rapid speed and even through his hazy vision Tony is able to recognize that run perfectly. He’d be able to recognize that run anytime and anyplace.

As Steve reaches them, something inside Tony breaks and reshapes itself back together, making it easier and harder to think, easier and harder to breathe, easier and harder to live

There is a tug, a pull, a magnetic force stronger than any other power Tony has ever known that wills him to pull away from Nebula and rest his entire body against Steve’s chest. 

The impact must have been harder than Tony anticipated because Steve lets out a light grunt as Tony’s body meets his own but he doesn’t hesitate to put his arms around him and support him. 

There’s not a place where their bodies -from shoulders to thighs- aren’t touching and even though Tony is obviously the weaker one in this situation and he can barely stand on his own, he’s not entirely sure the tremors quaking his body are his own. 

Steve’s hands are obviously shaking where they’re placed against Tony’s shoulder and waist and though Steve’s solidness is what’s keeping Tony upright, there is something in Steve’s face that tells Tony he’s just as responsible for keeping Steve standing.

It’s barely a whisper, nothing more than a puff of air leaving Steve’s lips. “Tony.”

His name.

Something breaking and reshaping itself. (His heart, maybe. Perhaps his soul.)

Tony thinks, _“Steve”_ but the first thing he tells him after two years of absolutely no communication between them isn’t his name.

“I couldn’t stop him.”

Steve’s face crumbles, his eyes locked with Tony’s.

“Neither could I,” Steve says, making it sound like a shameful confession. 

“I lost the kid.”

Because being here, back on Earth, realizing there are people who have made it, having to deal once again with the knowledge that he’s alive when so many others aren’t, when Peter isn’t… It’s paralyzing. 

_I lost the kid, I lost the kid, I lost the kid_. It’s a loop playing in his mind. 

He didn’t get to see Peter. He didn’t get to apologize. 

_I lost the kid._

_“_ Tony…” Steve’s voice pulls Tony out of his head. He sounds steadier this time but no less broken. “We lost.”

Tony’s jaw clicks shut and for a second it feels like he’s less able to gulp down oxygen here than he was back in the ship.

One of his hands grips Steve’s shoulder tightly almost to the point where he knows it has to hurt but Steve is still looking intently at him, not moving an inch. 

“Is she—“ Tony can’t even finish the question, his fear eating away his voice and his mind. 

“Tony.”

Tony can smell her before he can even hear her, her distinctive floral smell, rich and fresh. Tony knows the smell by heart, since she first started working for him, because yes, Pepper Potts is the kind of person who’s been using the same perfume for decades now, something about it a personal trademark. 

Her voice comes from somewhere to Tony’s right and Tony turns in Steve’s grip towards that sound, like a lighthouse is showing him his way back to shore. 

And there she is. Whole. Alive. 

She takes two steps towards him and he takes one in her direction. Steve has to follow him with one of his hands still on his waist and the other hovering over his left elbow, ready to catch him if he falls.

“Pepper. Pepper, thank God.”

The way his body meets Pepper’s is completely the opposite of what meeting Steve’s was. It’s slow and soft, timid at first, even. 

Pepper’s arms wrap around his waist and Tony brings one of his hands up to her long hair, burying his fingers deep in it, feeling the smooth strands with his fingertips. 

As he hides his face in the crook of her neck and takes a deep breath he feels Steve’s arms finally pulling away from his body. They don’t leave abruptly, but gently, Steve’s hands grazing Tony’s shoulders and back before completely retreating. 

He stays there, in Pepper’s arms, for what feels like an eternity but is actually no time at all. His tears are dampening Pepper’s sweater’s shoulder but her tears are also dampening his t-shirt so there’s no judgement to be made.

It’s getting harder to breathe with his nose pressed completely to Pepper’s neck so Tony moves to rest his chin upon Pepper’s shoulder. His face is now facing forwards but his eyes are still closed until a the clearing of a throat captures his attention.

When his eyes open and adjust to the subtle light of the moon he sees Rhodey standing there, tall and proud, with a small smile on his face and silent tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Hey, Tones.”

He’s not ready to let go of Pepper but he needs to feel Rhodey, to know he’s not just imagining this. He moves one of his hands and extends it towards his best friend who doesn’t hesitate to grab it and intertwine their fingers.

_I lost the kid,_ he still thinks.

_I lost the kid but at least I didn’t lose everything._

_______________________________

 

“It’s been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth,” Steve is saying, but everything sounds remote and hollow to Tony, like he’s still back in the spaceship, thousands and thousands of miles away while the remaining Avengers are having this conversation.

The fight never ends.

This is something Tony has always known. Or at least something Tony has known ever since he first became Iron Man.

The fight never ends.

You show up, you give it your all, you sweat and bleed and bruise, you hit and get hit, you punch and get punched, you try to look for a way out and, when the plan fails, you re-write the strategy. 

You win.

Or you lose.

But the fight never ends.

Even sitting down on a wheelchair, an IV hooked onto his left arm, pounds and pounds lighter than he was only a couple of weeks ago, all of his strength gone, it still seems like the fight never ends, like he’s meant to go out there once again and this time, die trying if necessary. 

But he can’t.

He physically can’t. His legs are shaking and his hands are too, and he’s still trying to regulate his breathing. Not too fast, not too slow. _There’s more than enough oxygen here_ , Tony tells himself. Not too fast, not too slow. _Just breathe_.

Emotionally? Mentally? He can’t. It would be too much. There’s all this guilt weighing him down, heavier probably than his body. There’s also the exhaustion, not from lack of sleep but from abundance of living, maybe. The simple act of being here, of having all these voices inside his head, some of them real some of them not, telling him every single thing he could have done differently, pointing out each and every one of his failures. 

He can’t fight. He’s of no use like this.

The fight never ends but the fight has ended him, this time. 

“-that are still working, are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did, he did exactly what he said he was going to do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures.”

Natasha sounds chocked up, her voice full of pain and regret. Tony has seen her vulnerable before but never like this, never so vulnerable she forgets to even hide it. Or maybe it’s not that she’s forgotten. Maybe this is what the fight has taken from her, the desire to hide herself from everyone. 

Tony watches her and she’s standing there, in front of the holo-screens, all of them showing dozens of pictures from people now gone, and he sees in her everything he would have only been able to imagine once upon a time: her tiredness, her weariness, her pain.

As he looks around he realizes this is true for everyone in this room, even the people he didn’t know well before this moment. Their emotions, their fears, their regrets… He can see them in every single person in the room. 

The fight has taken this from all of them, then. Their masks.

No, the fight didn’t do this. Thanos did.

“Where is he now?,” Tony asks before he’s even aware of the words leaving his mouth. “Where?”

It’s Steve who answers, “We don’t know. He just opened a portal and walked through.”

For the first time since they all got settled into the conference room, Tony’s gaze fixes solely on Steve. He’s leaning against a table, his arms crossed and his legs too, a defensive pose if Tony’s ever seen one. But there are no enemies for him in this room, only allies. Or at least, there are no enemies for him in the room at this moment.

It’s been two years. Two years since Tony last saw Steve and the last time he saw him he just had lost a fight too. 

_“And what if we lose?”_

_“We’ll do that together, too.”_

Twice he’s lost now and twice he’s been left behind, alone.

Before any more memories can rush in and flood his mind Tony rips his eyes away from Steve’s figure and instead looks at all the other people congregated in the room. 

If anyone was watching this from the outside they might have mistaken them for a team, but nothing could be further from the truth. They’re all standing next to each other but they’re not together at all.

There’s one person, though, truly isolated from all of them. Only one person who still seems capable to hide from Tony’s gaze, still capable to hide himself away. 

If everyone in the room is now an open book, Thor is an uncrackable safe, the key to open it long lost to a sea of turmoil. 

Everyone’s been cracked open from the blows but Thor seems to have closed off like never before.

Pointing in Thor’s direction Tony asks, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s pissed. Thinks he failed. Which, of course he did, but, you know, there’s a lot of that going around, ain’t there?”

There’s— And it was there before but— The lack of oxygen, maybe, but no there really —

Looking at the raccoon, Tony says, “Honestly, at this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

The raccoon -and is it really the lack of oxygen? It has to be- shrugs. “Maybe I am.”

“We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep space scans, and satellites, and we got nothing.”

Steve’s voice cuts through the air once again and Tony forgets about talking raccoons and possible brain damage due to oxygen deprivation and tries to focus his attention on Steve without having to look at him, trying not to make it too obvious.

“Tony.”

His name again. The attention on him.

Steve looking at him and them being on the same team after two years. 

But are they really on the same team? Is there even a team anymore?

He had one, a team, and he lost it. He fought and he lost, both the team and the fight. 

And then he fought again. And he lost again. There was no team to lose this time and yet he managed to lose it. 

_I lost the kid._

“You fought him.”

Steve, still talking to him. 

Wait, is Steve still talking to him?

His eyes are settled on Tony and he looks expectant, like Tony owes him an answer, like he’s sure he will give it. 

“Who told you that?” 

Tony’s voice sounds combative and it’s a relief that he doesn’t have to work for it. The anger, the hurt, the disappointment, the sadness…; they’re all there, and Tony wouldn’t be strong enough to call upon them if they weren’t already floating to the surface. 

He wants them there because this anger and this hurt and this disappointment and this sadness, they’re all familiar. They’ve been living within him for years, unwelcome guests in his mind, guests that sometimes sleep by his side every night and sometimes don’t visit for days at a time. 

“I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while a Bleecker Street magician gave away the stone. That’s what happened. There was no fight.”

He’s been thinking he lost the fight but maybe what he’s saying now is true, maybe there was never really a fight to lose. 

Maybe they were all doomed from the beginning, from that very first time the Avengers ever got together.

Maybe his failure was some sort of cosmic destiny he always had to fulfill.

And here comes Steve, still so sure of himself, reminding him of it.

And he keeps talking. He keeps pushing Tony.

“Okay. Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”

How dare him? How dare Steve ask him that? 

How does he dare to make it seem like all Tony did was have a fucking tea party with the guy that killed half the universe?

Clues? Coordinates? How is Tony supposed to know? And if he did know, doesn’t Steve think that would be the kind of thing Tony would share from the get-go?

But even if he had shared it, would they have believed him? He saw this coming once and yet no one ever really gave him the time of day.

“I saw this coming a few years back,” Tony muses out-loud. “I had a vision, but I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I was dreaming.”

“Tony, I’m going to need you to focus…,” Steve demands and Tony’s anger starts making its way through the grief, gaining more and more space in his brain until all he can see are images of before, of a red, white and blue suit, of a shield headed his way. 

Tony welcomes the anger, glad from the distraction from his pain and his own guilt. He revels in it and lets it take over, lets it drive him.

“And I needed you, as in past tense. That trumps what you need. It’s too late, buddy. Sorry,” Tony proclaims, completely uncaring of all the people hearing about it. 

Once upon a time he would have been embarrassed to confess it but it matters very little at all in this moment.

He can admit it: he needed Steve.

It’s not like that hasn’t already become obvious enough by now. 

There’s no use in hiding anymore. If everyone is going to be an open book so will he, no matter if the rest of the world doesn’t want to read what’s inside his covers.

Suddenly feeling an unexpected bout of strength Tony gets up and pushes the wheelchair back with his hands. 

“You know what I need? I need a shave.” 

His hands are performing strange and erratic movements that Tony’s not entirely controlling but it feels good to be moving again, to be uncontrollable like so many people have accused him of being before: uncontrollably arrogant, uncontrollably selfish, uncontrollably reckless.

Tony turns and starts pointing his finger at everyone in the room, people he’s known for years, people he just met. They all find themselves at the end of his judgment. But in the end he comes back to point at Steve. Everything always comes back to Steve. 

“And I believe I even remember telling you this…” Tony’s voice trembles as his knees do too but he stays up, willing his body to last for just one more minute. 

“Tony.” 

Rhodey is by his side in a second, placing one of his hands under one of Tony’s elbows, ready to catch him if he falls.

“Tony,” Rhodey repeats but Tony moves away from him a little, takes a step towards Steve.

One more step. And another.

“That what we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not, that’s what we needed.” 

His ears are ringing and he can’t even hear his own voice but he thinks he might be yelling. 

He’s standing close to Steve, so close he can see his Adam’s apple move when Steve swallows heavily. 

He waits but Steve stays silent.

“That’s what we needed, Cap. Protection. And I needed you. I said we’d lose and you said we’d do that together too. Well, guess what? We lost and you weren’t even there! None of the Avengers were even there with me! Together. HA!”

From the corner of his eye Tony spots Rhodey moving towards him once again but he puts a hand up to stop him. 

“Tony, c’mon, man, sit down,” Rhodey pleads but Tony isn’t done. 

His voice is now nothing more than a whisper and he can feel himself slowly deflating but he says, “So I got nothing for you, Cap. No coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. I’ve got nothing,” his finger hits Steve’s hard chest, right in the center of his sternum. “Zero.” Another jab with his finger, this time harder. “Zip.” Another tap even though his arm is shaking now. “Nada.” 

He moves his hand away and only then realizes Steve’s eyes had been completely focused on his finger and, for some reason, this only serves to anger him more, having Steve’s complete attention when he didn’t have it in the moments he needed it most. 

This Steve, submissive, taking this brand of public punishment Tony is exerting on him, only angers Tony more, and it makes his heart clench painfully and his stomach knot up. 

“No trust. Liar.”

As his last word leaves his mouth Tony rips his arc reactor from his chest and Steve takes an abortive tiny step forward, his face twisting in an expression of complete horror as if for just a second he had forgotten that Tony didn’t need it anymore to survive. 

His left hand grabs Steve’s right one and before Steve’s expression can even change back from the worry so clearly drawn there, Tony slams the reactor harshly against Steve’s hand. 

The room is quiet when only a second ago Tony could hear people’s surprised gasps and erratic breathings. 

The room is quiet and it is spinning and through his confusion, still holding on to Steve’s hand Tony says, “You take this and you find him. You put that on and then you hide…”

Feeling off-balance Tony takes a step back and drops Steve’s hand. His arm searches for a solid grip on something but his legs give out from under him before he can find support and he hits the floor hard, pain radiating from every nerve in his body. 

“Tony,” Steve’s kneeling next to him in the blink of an eye, placing his hands under his head and checking for injuries. “Tony, I’m sorry.”

It’s no more than a breath, meant for only his ears and uttered in the short second before the rest of the group starts crowding in around them. 

Tony loses consciousness before he can ask if that apology is meant only for today or if it covers any past indiscretions. 

_______________________________

 

Pepper is crying when Tony wakes up and for a second he debates pretending he’s still unconscious. 

It probably makes him a terrible person -it _definitely_ makes him a terrible person- but the idea of having to face her pain is hard, so hard it makes him almost wish he was back in space where he could still imagine her happy, if not in the present then in some hazy future where the hard things had already passed.

But she’s crying, quietly but heartily, and the pressure on the left side of the bed he’s lying in tells him, without having to open his eyes, that she’s got her head and probably her arms resting on it. 

She’s crying and although he doesn’t feel ready Tony opens his eyes because if there is even a small chance he can make this easier on Pepper he will take it. 

His eyes take a while to adjust to the light and he has to blink heavily against the harsh brightness of the room. Without moving his head Tony’s eyes scan around the room and he immediately recognizes that he's in one of the recovery rooms of the Avengers Compound.

Tony can feel that an IV has been inserted into his left hand once again and it itches but he has to admit the fluids it’s pumping into him have him feeling a little more human already.

Pepper’s sobs can still be heard in the silence of the room.

Making use of every last bit of courage left in him Tony clears his throat to signal his waking up.

His eyes stay focused on the ceiling, though, because every bit of courage he has left doesn’t actually amount to that much courage anymore. 

“Tony,” Pepper breathes, and the pressure to his left eases, most likely due to Pepper raising her head.

A slight pressure is applied to Tony’s left hand and he recognizes Pepper’s touch instantly. 

“Oh, Tony.”

It’s the second utterance of his name that makes him finally move his eyes away from the nothingness above him and fix his gaze on her. 

She’s not wearing any make up, every single freckle on her face visible just as the large bags under her eyes. Tony’s heart finds a home in his throat and when he tries to swallow it hurts and he has to cough.

“Hey, hey.” 

Pepper stand up and moves away from his bedside, letting go of his hand. She extends her arm to grab a glass full of water from the nightstand and she brings it over to him, placing it gently against his lips, tipping it lightly so he doesn’t have to angle his head awkwardly. 

“Drink, Tony,” she gently demands. “Sip it slowly.”

He does, feeling grateful for the way the water eases the dryness away but still feeling chocked up.

He moves his head back a little bit when he has finished half of the glass. Pepper understands and puts the glass back on the nightstand, sitting next to his bed again.

Her hand moves towards his again but before she can touch him her face sets in a grimace, only for a fraction of a second, and her hand freezes, halfway between him and nothing. 

Biting her bottom lip, she pulls her hand away and sets both of her hands on her lap. She’s sitting rigidly on her chair and while they’re not more than 10 inches apart it feels like thousands of miles are separating them.

“How are-“ Pepper hesitates. “How are you feeling?”

It hurts, this being together but not being together, this having her back but not deserving to. 

“Better now,” he rasps. 

Pepper nods and when she moves her head to the right the light reflects on her eyes, letting Tony see the tears gathering in them.

“You look so thin,” she comments.

For a moment Tony thinks of cracking a joke, something about his twenties, about needing to keep up with her beauty, but his heart is not in it and he knows hers wouldn’t be either. 

“Being up there,” he tries to explain, wanting to be honest but needing to keep it light, more for her sake than his. “It wasn’t easy.” 

Pepper’s face breaks and she inhales harshly, not a full cloud of air but an interrupted process, like her lungs are resisting, like it hurts trying to fill them up but she’s pushing through the pain. Her lips press together, so hard they turn white and she closes her eyes as she starts exhaling through her nose, also intermittently. 

When her eyes open again a tear escapes the corner of her left eye and starts making a slow descent down the side of her face.

Tony imagines brushing it away with the pad of his thumb but the image stays in his mind and promptly goes unperformed. He tells himself he’s still feeling too tired to move but his own voice comes back to him in the form of a single word he uttered only a short time ago, not about him but still fitting him perfectly.

_Liar._

Maybe he and Steve aren’t so different after all.

Both liars.

Pepper’s tear reaches the edge of her jaw and falls down, getting lost forever, another thing he’s caused to be lost. 

Her eyes look clearer now, her gaze somewhat sharper and Tony can instantly feel the change in the atmosphere.

“I am—,” Pepper starts and then stops, like she’s trying to find the perfect words, as if there even were perfect words to be used. “I am so happy that you’re back, Tony. The relief I felt in my chest when I saw you step down that ship… I’ll always be grateful for that.” 

_Me too_ , Tony thinks. _If I’m even allowed to feel grateful for things anymore._

“It was kind of like when I watched you exit the plane after Afghanistan,” Pepper laughs, a humorless sound. 

Space. Afghanistan. 

Being back from space reminds Tony of being back from Afghanistan. A stranger in his own land. 

“I’m so happy that you’re back, Tony.”

One of her hands finally reaches towards him, her left hand making its way to Tony’s face. The touch is so gentle and light, her fingertips grazing the entirety of his face, from his forehead to his eyelids and down the slope of his cheeks to his chapped lips. 

“I’m so happy,” she repeats. “And I’m so sad. So unbelievably sad about what happened.”

Her voice breaks and she mutters a nearly inaudible “Oh, God.”

“And Tony, this is not the time because I love you and now I have you back, but I’m also so angry.”

He waits for the sadness to come, but he feels exactly the same. No sadder than before, no more surprised.

He made a promise to her and he couldn’t keep it and the fate of the world was on the line but… This is not the first time, not the second, not even the _third_ time, this has happened. 

“I could have lost you, without even a goodbye.”

_I could have lost_ _you_ _without a goodbye,_ Tony thinks back at her.

Her hand is still touching his face, her palm cupping his cheek, and Tony is not sure if the coldness he can feel there is from the metal of her engagement ring or from the shame taking root in his body. Maybe it’s both.

10 seconds go by, and then 15, and then maybe 20, and Tony and Pepper are still looking into each other’s eyes. No words are exchanged but after so many years they don’t need them anymore to have a conversation.

Surprisingly, Pepper is the first to break the lock of their gazes, letting out a tired sigh. 

Her hand leaves his face as she starts to move back a little, setting herself fully into her chair once again. This time her posture is more relaxed but there’s still weariness there, set in the subtle frown of her brows and her sad smile.

Her hand finds his again and although they don’t intertwine their fingers they hold on to each other, they hold on to each other tight. Maybe too tight.

The door of the recovery room opens and Tony startles, turning his head towards it. 

Rhodey walks into the room and a smile brightens up his face. 

“Tones,” he utters, voice full of wonder.

Not for the first time in his life Tony feels undeserving of him, but he allows this one good thing to warm him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he holds up his right hand towards his best friend.

There’s no hesitation in Rhodey’s stride as he makes his way towards his bed and grabs his hand. Their fingers intertwine. 

Pepper’s hand is cold and smooth and Rhodey’s is a little clammy but both feel like a lifeline to him.

He closes his eyes, deliberately this time, and he doesn’t have to wait long for sleep to claim him once again. 

 

_______________________________

 

He wakes up again and sees Pepper still next to him, phone in hand, typing frantically. 

He sleeps.

He wakes up but he doesn’t open his eyes, just listens to unidentifiable loud noises that could be voices or could be dreams. He somehow knows he’s alone in the room.

He sleeps. 

He wakes to the sound of a spaceship’s engine turning on and for a second he wonders if he dreamt his return home, but the feeling of the mattress under his body confirms everything was real. He’s still alone and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to verify it.

He sleeps.

The next time he wakes, he’s not alone anymore.

 

_______________________________

 

Steve is crying when Tony wakes up and for a second he debates pretending he’s still unconscious.

Tony has never seen Steve cry, not once in the 6 years he’s known him. 

He’s seen him furious, and apathetic, and comfortable, and confused, sometimes even playful and teasing in the rare times when the old team would get together and spend some downtime in each other’s company that had nothing to do with saving the world or protecting it. 

Tony has never seen Steve so full of anguish that it spills out of him this rawly, so uninhibited in his pain that it can even be felt through the air by other people.

Now that he thinks about it, Tony’s not sure he’s seen Steve truly happy either. 

Sure, he’s seen him smile, soft and small ones as well as big and bright ones, and he’s also seen him laugh, freely and fully, but that joy felt nothing like this is feeling right now.

Is Steve’s sadness just naturally more consuming than his happiness or has he actually not known happiness around Tony ever?

If it wasn’t for the sound of Steve’s sobs Tony could have thought he was alone in the room. 

Steve isn’t touching his bed and though his eyes are still closed Tony can imagine him being a respectful distance away, not wanting to crowd Tony, maybe not feeling ready to close the invisible barrier that exists between them since that fateful day in Siberia.

Maybe if Tony was a different person, maybe if _Steve_ was a different person, Tony would be able to ignore the situation and pretend to be asleep until it truly became a reality, but they’re Steve and Tony, even after all this time apart, so that means there’s no other option for him but to open his eyes. 

As soon as his eyes become accustomed again to the lightning in the room Tony follows the sounds of Steve’s distress with the movement of his eyes, landing on Steve’s hunched body to the left of his bed, occupying the same chair Pepper had made hers before.

Steve’s head is lowered and placed between his knees, both of his elbows resting on his knees, his hands behind his head, one of them gripping his hair so tightly Tony’s actually afraid he’ll rip some of it out.

Tony can’t see if Steve’s eyes are opened or closed but it wouldn’t matter anyway because from his position he can’t tell Tony is now directly looking at him and Tony guesses that’s why he keeps weeping loudly. 

Every few seconds a sniff and a wet sound leave Steve’s nose and throat respectively as he tries to take in air. He doesn’t appear to be successful at it because even Tony can feel how little air is making its way towards Steve’s lungs at the moment.

Tony wouldn’t know how to correctly guess how much time Steve’s been like this now. Has he just sat down? Has he just started crying and is that why there’s so much force behind it? Or has he been at Tony’s bedside for hours, continuously sobbing on his own, all the sorrow inside him so strong that it’s still coming down in the form of waterfalls and thunder?

It’s easier for Tony to guess the amount of time Steve has been holding back these feelings and the answer is _a long time._

Even though it’s Steve who’s in Tony’s recovery room, and even though Tony’s confined to this stupid bed, and even though he’s the one who just now woke up, he can’t help but feel like he’s intruding in an intimate moment that does not belong to him. 

If Steve has never willingly shared the full range of his emotions with Tony before it feels wrong that he’s witnessing this while Steve sits there, unaware of the audience. 

Tony tries to make his presence -or his consciousness, better said- known to Steve but when he tries to pronounce a “Cap” no sound leaves his throat. 

He’s afraid. Not of Steve, he’s never been truly afraid of Steve -at least not for longer than a second- but of what this conversation, if they are to have one, will do to him. 

Fear has always made Tony bolder, more prone to spectacle to cover up his vulnerabilities in front of other people, but this time fear is making him silent, because everything where Steve is concerned has a way of surprising Tony like that. 

He tries to say “Cap” once again but just like before his voice won’t respond to his commands.

Meanwhile, Steve is still crying.

He looks younger, somehow, positioned like that. It’s like he’s trying make himself smaller, like he’s trying to hide from the world. Like he’s only a little boy scared of all that’s happened and all that’s to come.

Maybe that’s what compels Tony to finally speak, what finally brings his fear down. The notion that while Steve is not really a little boy he’s also way too young to be suffering this much.  Because he _is_ young, young in a way Tony hasn’t felt in years, if ever.

“Steve.”

Steve’s head shoots up from his lowered position and his eyes are wide when they settle on Tony’s form. His eyes and nose are reddened and his cheeks are wet, tears still making their way down his smooth face. His mouth is opened wide and Tony wonders if it’s because of the surprise of having been caught crying this way.

Or maybe… Maybe he’s surprised at the way his name sounded leaving Tony’s lip. Tony sure is. 

Has he ever called Steve by his name before? Has Steve only ever been _Cap_ or _Rogers_ to him?

This is probably the first time Tony’s said Steve’s name and it shouldn’t matter as much as it does but there’s something that feels transcendental about it.

After sniffing and shaking his head as if to try to clear his mind, Steve says “You’re awake.”

“I sure am,” Tony replies.

Steve runs his hands up and down his thighs, a nervous habit of his that Tony still remembers. He turns his head towards his right shoulder and uses it to wipe away the wetness from his face, leaving his skin irritated by the force of the movement.

That’s when Tony notices what Steve is wearing. His suit. The Captain America suit Tony designed for him. Or at least the remnants of what used to be his suit.

“What—?,” Tony asks, the question incomplete and yet so easy to understand. 

Steve promptly realizes where Tony’s eyes are focused and he admits, “Oh, yeah. We, um… We went after Thanos.”

“We?” 

Tony gets weirdly fixated on the pronoun.

“The rest of the Aven—,” Steve hesitates. “The rest of the group and me.”

“You guys went after Thanos?,” Tony whispers. “Without me?”

A short silence falls between them and in that time Steve doesn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

“Tony,” Steve starts. “You know you can’t—You couldn’t—“

And Tony does know. 

He knows his question was stupid because of course they went without him, he is under no condition to be doing anything but rest at the moment and he knows he would have only been a liability but…

_Together_.

Before Steve can continue talking Tony asks, “What happened?”

Steve huffs and his expression turns into a bitter smirk. 

“Thor killed him,” he reveals. “Thor killed Thanos.”

“Thor killed Thanos?” Tony repeats, more confused than shocked.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms. “It was actually pretty easy.”

“Easy?” Tony snaps.

“He was alone in a lonely, little planet. Just waiting for someone to put him out of his misery, I guess.”

“Okay, wait,” Tony demands. “I don’t know if it’s me that’s having trouble processing this information or if it’s you doing an awful job at explaining it so, please, please, just… Can you tell me everything?

And Steve does.

He starts by telling him how Nebula knew where her father could be found and how everyone decided to suit up and go after him.

He continues by saying that nothing made any kind of sense when they got there because Carol proclaimed Thanos was completely alone, no defenses, no allies. Just him. 

Tears gather in his eyes as he tells Tony how they had found out that Thanos had destroyed the Stones, that the trip had been in vain because there was no way they could fix what, according to Thanos, had always been meant to happen.

“And then Thor killed him,” Steve finishes relating the story. “Just like that.”

Tony feels like he hasn’t blinked or even breathed for the entirety of Steve’s retelling. 

Everything is silent except for Steve’s harsh breathing sounds and at some time during the story Steve has neared his chair to Tony’s bed, his elbows now resting on the mattress, his hands locked in front of his face. 

“He’s dead?” Tony waits for Steve’s nod of confirmation. “And there’s no way to bring them—? We can’t bring them back?”

_I lost the kid._

Steve’s head shake is almost imperceptible but Tony manages to catch it, probably because of how focused he is on Steve’s every movement at the moment.

Everything stops for a minute. 

Not a single sound is made, not a single muscle is moved. The world has stopped spinning and Steve and Tony are the last two people left standing in it, the last two survivors of their greatest fears combined. Everyone dying around them, being left alone again. Their worst nightmares and their grandest prophecies. 

Suddenly, a sob breaks out of Steve. It comes from the deepest parts of his chest and it tears him apart.

“Tony…,” Steve wails and that becomes the only word Steve seems able to pronounce. _Tony. Tony. Tony._

The last of Steve’s strength seems to finally leave him and his arms and his head fall forward, meeting Tony’s stomach, where they make a home for themselves, burrowing into the sheet that covers Tony. Tony can feel the vibrations of Steve’s cries against his body and he imagines he can also feel the puffs of air leaving Steve’s mouth as he continues echoing his name. 

_Tony. Tony. Tony._

The moment Tony feels his first silent tear escape his right eye, Tony brings his left hand up and places it delicately against Steve’s head. 

As his second tear traces a path down the slope of his nose, Tony tightens his grip on Steve’s hair.

As the number of tears become impossible to count Tony’s touch becomes more purposeful, soft caresses that run through Steve’s blonde hair and that serve to remind him he’s not floating away. This touch is the only useful thing he can provide right now, a slice of comfort, a glimpse of peace. 

Steve’s crying is loud and while Tony’s is silent, it’s not any less honest. 

The only thing Tony feels compelled to say while he cries his heart away is, “Steve.”

_Together._

Maybe they did lose together.

 


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank every single person who took the time to read and give kudos on chapter 1, it means the world to me. I'm especially grateful to the people who left comments saying they liked the story or detailing their favorite parts of the first chapter. Your words give me the confidence and motivation to keep writing and I was brought to tears by everyone's kindness. 
> 
> The chapter count has gone from 7 to 8 chapters because of some restructuring I've done. I can't promise this is the final count, we'll have to see. 
> 
> Special thanks to Jaime -once again- for his support and his beta work. This story wouldn't be possible without you! All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy chapter 2.
> 
> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://natpeggy.tumblr.com).)

It takes Steve about 25 minutes to fall asleep, exhausted from all the desperate crying. 

Tony notices him drifting off when his sobs quiet down and his breathing evens out. He’s still got his face buried in Tony’s midsection, his arms folded under his face, and his stomach rises and falls in the constraint of his uniform. Tony’s hand is still buried in his blond hair but it’s no longer stroking it, just sits there motionless. The position both of them find themselves in has no right feeling this familiar when never before have they ever been this close, never before have they allowed themselves the opportunity. 

Steve’s breaths are quieter now than before but they still feel terribly loud in the stillness that surrounds them.

Lost in his thoughts and trying not to focus too closely on the man lying on him, Tony starts wondering where the rest of the people went after they came back. Steve came to him - which still doesn’t fail to surprise him- but what about the others? 

Is Rhodey okay? Is he, too, mourning unconsolably at not having been able to fix things? Have Natasha and Bruce taken refuge on each other? Has Nebula been alone all this time or is she finding comfort in having one of her old teammates back? Is Thor feeling in any way better after having been able to kill the man responsible for all this pain?

And then Tony remembers.

Thanos is dead. He’s dead. Thor killed him.

Thanos is dead and yet his death solved nothing. 

There have been no resurrections, no come backs, no reunions or rebirths. The people that were gone are still gone and no miracles loom in the horizon waiting to be performed. 

Death is the most permanent state there is in nature and Thanos made sure of that before he died.

But Tony cannot accept that. He can’t. How could he? 

The fight never ends. He can’t have it on his conscience to be the one to end this one. 

It takes Steve around 35 minutes to wake up from what looked to Tony like restless sleep.

During this time Tony has only been staring at the wall, unmoving and practically unseeing, and yet so attuned to Steve’s demeanor. 

Steve never stopped twitching and letting out this mellow whines that brought an indescribable pain to Tony’s chest, he kept breathing heavily through his dreams. 

When Steve finally wakes up he does so in a startled manner, his body suddenly shooting up and going rigid in less than a second, like he’s preparing himself for battle already.

Tony’s hand has fallen from Steve’s head due to his sudden movement and is now resting limply on the bed. Only the change in position has him noticing the tingling sensation that runs from his shoulder to his fingers, his arm asleep from having been bent the same way for a long period of time. 

Steve’s eyes keep darting around the room, trying to take everything in, and asses the situation. He closes his eyes forcefully and opens the again after having taken two deep breaths. When his eyes open they look less clouded, a little sharper and more awake. 

His breathing still has not gone back to normal but maybe it’s not because of the surprise his abrupt awakening caused in him, maybe it’s that breathing through grief is one of the hardest things humans have to learn how to do. 

Tony coughs as Steve is still looking around the room, both to soothe his dry throat and to try and alleviate the tension that he can feel already building up between them, before Steve has even made eye contact with him again. 

The sound seems to center Steve and he stops his fidgeting to focus on Tony. 

Compared to his previous erratic state watching him go back to the stiffness and the pause is jarring to Tony, that has to pay close attention to Steve’s eyelids to make sure he’s still blinking and he hasn’t just spontaneously turned into some kind of hyper-realistic statue. 

This time the cough is totally involuntary and it lasts longer, making Tony bend on himself from the force of it. 

Steve then moves again, standing up and walking purposefully to the room’s mini fridge, stocked full of water bottles. 

He walks back to the bed, this time on the other side of where the chair he was sitting on is placed, and hesitates.

“Can you hold it or should I bring it over or…?,” he softly asks.

Still coughing lightly Tony makes a vague gesture and hold his hand out waiting for Steve to hand him the bottle.

Steve does and as soon as the bottle is on his hand Tony starts bringing it closer to his lips, but he has to does it slowly because his hand is shaking a little bit from this minuscule effort. 

He sips at the liquid slowly at first, and then starts gulping it down, desperate for it. 

“Careful, Tony. Be careful,” warns Steve, still standing next to him and looking over him intensely.

Tony finishes the bottle entirely and hands it back to Steve so he can throw it away. Steve then opens the mini fridge once again and takes out a couple more water bottles, this time walking over to the side of the bed with the chair and placing them in the nightstand there, sitting down as soon as he’s done so.

A silence envelopes them both but Tony’s surprised at how it’s not particularly an awkward one. It also doesn’t feel comfortable, though. It’s a heavy but manageable silence and they let it stay there with them for a couple minutes, just basking in it.

Steve is the first to break it when he proclaims, “I’m sorry.”

Tony raises an eyebrow and a foggy image makes way in his mind: Steve, saying that same exact word as Tony hit the floor and lost consciousness.

He stays silent and waits for Steve to continue because if they’re going to be having this conversation Tony is in no condition to be bearing the heavy weight of it.

“I’m sorry for crying on you,” Steve clarifies. “And I’m also sorry for falling asleep on you after crying on you.”

Something breaks without reshaping itself inside of Tony and the disappointment feels like a blaze. 

Only a minute ago he wasn’t sure he was ready, or even wanted, to have the conversation, the one that has always seemed inevitable after everything that happened between them, but now, realizing Steve is not going to be starting it, Tony can’t help but feel like the world has snatched something precious away from him.

The anger and the hurt and the disappointment and the sadness that Tony has been carrying around with him for years, they all feel too heavy now. They’ve warmed him during cold nights, they’ve pushed him to do better and, only a few hours before, they were giving him the strength to stand up to this man that is now sitting in front of him.

But in a short amount of time so many things have changed. 

Thanos is dead.

No one is back.

The anger, the hurt, the disappointment and the sadness he feels towards Steve did nothing to prevent that in the end. There was no real usefulness to them in the end and Tony is ready to let them go but he can’t do that if Steve doesn’t start the conversation.

He could start it, he supposes, but there’s also something in him that doesn’t want to have to do that. Maybe it’s an echo of the pride he used to wear like an armor for years, or the desire to feel as needed as he has needed Steve. Be what it may, Tony doesn’t take the leap and the conversation fades before it could even be began.

“It’s okay,” Tony says. “You needed that cry and I needed one too. No harm done.”

Steve nods and his eyes move towards the tube that goes into Tony’s left arm.

“Are you-“ he starts and clears his throat when his voice comes out raspy. “Are you feeling any better?”

It’s Tony’s turn to nod. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Not going to dramatically faint on you again any time soon.”

Although Tony’s tone was anything but humorous Steve cracks a little smile. Tony can read bitterness in it but nothing else and although he tries to decipher it further it leaves Steve’s face before Tony can make out anymore more concrete about it. 

“I didn’t say this before but I’m glad you’re okay, Tony. I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah, well, that makes one of us.”

The phrase comes out before Tony can even think about it and it brings everything to a stop.

Steve looks surprised and Tony can’t blame him because he’s gravely shocked too.

Did he mean it? Is that how he truly feels deep down inside? 

Sure, Tony can recognize the familiar feeling of survivor’s guilt he’s been carrying with him for years now, maybe sharpened now since the moment Peter vanished in his arms. But has it evolved? Has it grown into the wish for oblivion?

The short answer is no, it hasn’t. Tony is not harboring any thoughts or ideas of letting go and dying because he needs to be here, he needs to be alive to give his all once again. He has to be here because Pepper is still here, because Rhodey is still here. He needs to be alive because if he wished he wasn’t that would be dishonoring the memories of everyone that isn’t alive.

The more complicated answer is that maybe Tony wishes he could wish he wasn’t alive. He wishes he felt like he had a right to that. 

Steve is still looking at him like this is the first time he’s seeing him, like Tony is a stranger he doesn’t recognize. 

“Tony,” Steve whispers.

Tony swallows.

“I don’t-“ 

Steve’s voice is interrupted by the recovery room’s door opening and the sight of Pepper walking through it, a tablet in her hands. 

When she looks up from the electronic device she notices Steve sitting down next to Tony’s bed and she stops dead in her tracks. 

“Steve, I didn’t know you were here,” she apologizes.

Tony looks pointedly at the glass walls of the recovery room but he doesn’t comment on it, knowing they’re all way too preoccupied with the fate of the world at their hands to notice insignificant details like that. 

Steve stands up hastily and runs a hand nervously through his hair.

 “It’s okay, Pepper,” Steve mumbles, making his way towards the door. “I was just leaving.”

Tony feels dread fill up his body to the brim because no, Steve wasn’t just leaving but Tony’s last idiotic comment has made him want to. 

With a hand on the door handle and his back already facing both Pepper and Tony, Steve turns his head slightly to look back in Tony’s general direction.

“Take it easy, Tony. I’ll come back and see you soon,” he says. “Bye, Pepper.”

And then he walks out of the room.

 

_______________________________

 

“Did he tell you?” Pepper asks him.

She’s walked towards his bed and she’s leaning into him without applying too much pressure to his chest or the rest of his body. She kisses his forehead gently and brushes a lock of hair away from the corner of his eye. 

“Did he tell you about Thanos?” she clarifies. 

When Tony nods she tells him, “Rhodey told me. It’s so horrible.”

“It is,” Tony agrees, unsure of what else to add that would do the situation justice.

Pepper’s tablet is still in her hands and she’s not moving towards the chair to sit down. The position is uncomfortable because it makes Tony have to look up at her and his neck feels stiff already so Tony gestures towards the chair, a silent question. 

“I actually can’t,” Pepper says. “I’m not here to stay.”

She sighs and it sounds weary and sorrowful, something that comes from deep beneath her chest.

“I hate having to do this but I need to go to Malibu,” she explains and Tony understands without her having to say anything more.

She still continues talking, though. 

“I don’t know how we’re going to handle this but I need to go to HQ to see how badly things have hit us and to create a plan. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Stark Industries and it feels so wrong to say this because at this point there are a million more important things than a freaking company but-“

“Hey, hey,” Tony interrupts her. “This is important, Pepper. So many people depend on Stark Industries and we need to know what’s the situation.”

Pepper nods and she smiles sadly at him, “I sometimes forget that you’re not half bad at the business thing, either.”

“Don’t flatter me, Pep. We both know I’m terrible.”

Pepper’s laugh is nothing more than air leaving through her nostrils and the corners of her lips curling up but it’s the first glimmer of hope Tony has seen in weeks.

“I’m hoping to be back in a week or so and I’ve made sure Rhodey can stay here during that time so you won’t be alone,” she says. “And anyway the rest of the team is also here, so…”

Tony nods. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” Pepper pleads. “I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

Tony takes her left hand and brings it over to his mouth slowly, kissing the ring on her finger as she smiles down at him.

“We still need to talk and I want us to have a couple of days just for us,” Pepper voices.

The look in her eyes tells Tony she knows just as well as he does how difficult it will be to actually make that happen, but neither of them shatter the fantasy yet.

“You know I love you, right?” she asks.

And if there’s one thing he knows it’s that. Pepper loves him and he loves her even if they don’t have the best track record at loving each other.

“I love you, too.”

The touch of her lips on his feels more like a whisper than an actual kiss. It’s a balm that soothes his aches but it’s also a fire that inflicts different pain onto him.

Pepper incorporates and she starts walking backwards towards the door, not breaking eye contact with Tony for even a second.

He’s got his head turned to the right and the entire left side of his face hidden by the pillow but he still manages to give her a small smile goodbye.

As she is about to open the door, she says, “Oh, Tony, I just want to say I’m so sorry about Peter.”

And then she walks out of the room.

It’s only after he stops being able to watch Pepper go through the glass walls of the room that he realizes he wasn’t the one who told her about Peter and that that was the first kiss they had shared in over three weeks.

 

_______________________________

 

Despite his promise -if that comment made in the last possible second before he left the room can even be considered as such- Steve doesn’t visit Tony and yet, just as Pepper assured him, he’s far from alone once she leaves.

Rhodey is the first to come by his room and although neither of them cry while talking about what happened when the rest of the group went in search of Thanos, they envelop each other in a hug that lasts so long Tony loses all sense of time. Rhodey stays there and he tries to get Tony to talk about what his own experience was like when he had to face Thanos. 

At first Tony deflects the questions, not because he doesn’t want Rhodey to know or because he doesn’t know how beneficial for him it would be to finally talk to someone about it, but because he’s not sure he’d be able to find the right words to explain it. Everything happened so fast and yet it felt like years had passed. Everything had been too violent and yet not violent enough. Tony had felt himself die more than once and yet he had survived.

But when Rhodey tells him, “Tones, man, I don’t need the perfect retelling of it. I just want to know what it was like for you.”

That’s when Tony breaks down.

He doesn’t cry, not a single tear escapes his eyes even if they feel misty as he talks, but he lets it all out, every single thought and emotion that went through his head while he was out there: the fear, the insecurity, the tenacity, the strength, the confusion.

At one point he says, “Rhodey, I was in _space._ Oh man, I was so amazed.”

And the next moment he refutes his own comment, “And then I’d feel guilty for feeling that way because I was not there on vacation I was there chasing a guy that wanted to destroy our whole universe.”

Rhodey doesn’t say a word the whole time he’s speaking, just hums and nods along and sometimes squeezes Tony’s hand when he can feel him drifting off and disappearing into the confines of his own mind. 

When the time comes to talk about Peter Tony has to stop and his not talking creates a silence that stretches far beyond the recovery room. It reaches Tony’s heart, and he can feel it arriving in Queens, back where he first met the kid. He can almost see it traveling to every single place Peter ever touched and he can imagine it surrounding every person that has ever loved Peter like he has. And then it hits him for the first time.

“Rhodey, his aunt, Peter’s aunt,” Tony stutters. “I need to call his aunt, I need to tell her and let her know and just, Rhodey, I—“

“Tony, Tony,” Rhodey says as he puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders to try and calm him down. 

Tony hadn’t noticed but in his worry he had been trying to get up from the bed and Rhodey is now lightly pressing his shoulder back into the pillows as he shushes him to try and calm his breathing that has gone erratic.

When Tony has calmed down enough to let his head fall back onto the pillows and close his eyes Rhodey moves his hands away, but even through his closed eyelids Tony can sense him still standing up next to him.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Rhodey apologizes and this makes Tony open his eyes again and frown.

Rhodey’s face is full of despair.

“I already checked and she… May didn’t make it,” Rhodey announces.

“Oh,” Tony gaps.

The silence comes back to him and fills every empty space in his soul.

“That’s better, right?” Tony asks. “I mean, this way she doesn’t have to mourn him, she won’t feel this pain that….”

_This pain that I’m feeling._

“I’m really sorry, Tony. I know I didn’t know him like you did but I’m very sorry,” Rhodey laments.

_Sir, please, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go. I’m sorry._

“I’m sorry too,” Tony whispers. 

 

_______________________________

 

Rhodey stays with him through the night, sleeping in the pull-out couch specifically set in the room for situations like this one. 

They talk a little bit more about things but Tony stays away from the topic of Peter’s death again, not ready to revisit it. 

Rhodey’s soft snores settle something inside Tony he didn’t even know was restless before but he still sleeps fitfully, waking up intermittently and simply staring straight ahead, his mind working in circles through the same images, the same phrases, the same moments of his life.

When morning comes, Rhodey leaves to take a shower after Tony has reassured him that he’ll be fine without him.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I’ll just shower and make a couple of calls and then I’ll be back,” Rhodey repeats.

“Just go, platypus, for the love of God, just go.”

It only takes 10 minutes after Rhodey’s departure for Tony’s room to become a beacon for superheroes and aliens alike to come see him.

Carol comes to tell him she has to leave Earth to go do recon on other planets. She tells him she will keep in touch and to make sure they call her if they feel like they need her help. 

Before she leaves Tony utters out a “Thank you” and although he doesn’t say anything more her small nod lets Tony know she understood the meaning.

Rocket -and that’s the raccoon’s name because no, it wasn’t his brain playing tricks on him- comes into the room and up until the moment he leaves Tony is sure it was pretty much an accident because all he does is walk around opening cabinets and drawers and rummaging through them. Tony thinks he sees him slip a couple of things into his pockets but he’s too confused, and still also too tired, to question it. 

Right before he leaves, though, Rocket tells him, “I’m glad you’re fine, Stark. They’ve told me great things about you”. 

Tony hasn't recovered by the time he leaves the room so he doesn’t have time to answer who’s ever spoken to Rocket about him.

Thor doesn’t actually come into his room but Tony catches a glance of him twice through the glass walls of his room. 

The second time, they make accidental eye contact and when Tony offers him a nod in acknowledgement Thor breaks his gaze away and continues walking, his shoulders hunched over, his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

Bruce’s visit is longer than the others. He checks Tony’s vitals, changes his IV, walks him through a couple of neurological assessments to make sure the lack of oxygen his brain suffered hasn’t caused any lasting and worrying brain damage, he cleans a couple of Tony’s wounds and then, at last, he plops down in a chair and lets out a heavy sigh. 

He looks defeated like Tony has never seen Bruce look before, and that already says something for a man who’s default mood since Tony has met him has been tired, nervous, squeamish and tired again. 

When Bruce looks into his eyes Tony can see so many of the things he’s thinking reflected back at him.

“Tony,” Bruce pronounces and it’s incredible how well Tony can read him even after three years of not having seen him even once.

“I know,” Tony replies. “We will.”

Because if there’s one thing Bruce and him are going to try is to solve this with science. They might have both accidentally become superheroes during their unfortunate lives but they’re still first and foremost scientists. They couldn’t win this or solve this by calling upon their powers so they might have to use their knowledge.

The fight never ends and Tony and Bruce both know they’ll both want to keep fighting it with the tools they know best.

 

_______________________________

 

When Nebula comes into his room, Rhodey has plopped back into his seat and is tapping away at his tablet, most likely sending an email to one of his military contacts trying to solve one issue or another. 

Rhodey looks up from his tablet at the same time that Tony opens his eyes from where he’d been trying to catch another nap and ward away the headache that is building from his forehead to the back of his neck.

Nebula has come into the room but she’s standing stiffly next to the door, arms hanging limply by her sides.

“Oh, hey,” Rhodey greets. 

“Nebula,” Tony says. 

Nebula only nods and stays right where she is.

Tony looks between her and Rhodey and wonder if it’s his friend’s presence making her uncomfortable or if the fact that they’re not in space anymore with only each other for company plays a part in Nebula’s aloof demeanor.

“I came to say that we’re leaving,” Nebula speaks for the first time. “Rocket and I.” 

Tony’s not surprised by this but he is surprised by the sadness that grows at the thought of Nebula going away.

“There’s some things we have to do, some of them regarding our old team and—“

She presses her lips together and clears her throat before continuing.

“I just didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

The sadness from before is still there but some of it gets muted by the gratification of Nebula confessing this, of her keeping him in her thoughts still.

“Are you going to miss me, Smurfette?” he teases and without looking at him Tony hears Rhodey choke down a laugh.

Nebula’s expression sets into a deeper frown obviously brought on by her not understanding the reference but it clears away as she starts moving towards Tony’s bed. 

“You wish, Stark,” she refutes. “I’m just here so you don’t think I bailed on our rematch. It’s not honorable to do that.”

Tony lets out a laugh and Nebula must be suffering from a severe case of sleep deprivation because a smile overtakes her face, small, yes, but she lets it stay there for long seconds. 

“Wait, a rematch?,” Rhodey asks. “What were you two doing in space? Challenging each other to golf tournaments, or what?”

Nebula’s smile leaves her face but the softness stays. 

“Something like that,” she responds, although he doesn’t know if Nebula knows what golf even is. 

“You know it isn’t fair how well you look when I look like this.” Tony gestures vaguely to his own body.

“It’s obviously because I’m the superior one of the two of us,” Nebula claims.

Tony raises his eyebrows in mock indignation.

“You know, I didn’t plan on revealing this but I hope you know I let you win every single time at paper football.”

“Paper football,” Rhodey murmurs in the background but his voice gets lost in Nebula’s indignant reply.

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Tony reiterates. 

Nebula looks deep in thought for a few seconds before she repeats, “No you didn’t.”

“I’m going to actually miss you, you know?” Tony derails the topic and he enjoys watching Nebula squirm and hesitate.

“I…,” she stammers. “I might possibly feel your absence too. Who knows?”

Tony smiles and this time, he’s the one taking action and placing his pale hand on top of her blue one, grasping it gently for a few second until he feels her grabbing it back.

“Take care, Nebula,” he instructs. 

“You too,” she whispers back and lets go of his hand gifting him with one last smile.

When she’s about to leave the room, door handle in her hand and door already opened, she turns around and stares quizzically at him.

“Did you really let me win?” she wonders.

_Yes_.

“I guess you’ll have to make it back for that rematch and see,” he replies.

Nebula nods solemnly and with one last glance between Rhodey and Tony she exists the room, door closing silently behind her.

“Well, she seemed nice,” Rhodey comments. 

“She is,” Tony says. 

 

_______________________________

 

Natasha’s turn comes exactly 24 hours after Nebula’s visit to the recovery room.

Rhodey has once again had to leave Tony alone, this time due to an urgent meeting being called in the White House, a meeting that Rhodey knew he had to attend if he didn’t want to military to come knocking down the door of the Avengers Compound, no matter how many times Tony reminded him the doors could take the assault. 

When Natasha comes into the room Tony has a tablet in his hands and he’s making his way through every news channel stream, every online newspaper, every social media platform he can think of and he’s reading about the real-life consequences the Decimation -as some media outlets have taken to calling the snap- have had on their world. 

Sometimes it’s easy for Tony to forget how far removed from the rest of the world he really is because he lives his entire life surrounded by people like him, people that practically have the fate of the universe in their hands but that don’t have to worry or suffer about the most mundanes of aspects. 

Since the Decimation happened almost a month ago now -only one more day until they hit that painful anniversary- everyone that surrounds him has been submersed in trying to counteract what happened, in trying to fix the world, in putting on their hero suits and fighting the good fight one more time. 

The only thing that has really connected them to the world outside the compound has been the grief that everyone in the entire world has been feeling, no one actually spared from once.

But as time continues to pass Tony thinks they’re all going to have to open their eyes to the reality of things: there are consequences they can’t avoid whether this gets solved or not, _even_ if it gets solved, things that need plans and maintenance and failsafes and recovery, because god knows how long it will take for things to go back to normal. 

Well, actually, that’s the main problem. Things will never go back to normal.

Tony is deep in concentration while reading an article from the New York Bulletin from a journalist called Karen Page about the closing of various establishments in the Hell’s Kitchen area when two soft taps are applied to the recovery room’s door.

“Knock, knock,” Natasha’s soft voice says. “May I come in?”

Tony looks at her and then promptly looks back down at his tablet, pressing down on the button to turn off the screen, and leaving the device resting on his stretched legs. 

“Yeah, sure,” Tony concedes. “Come in.”

Natasha follows his permission and walks into the room, directly walking to the bed’s right side and looking down at him.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, looking at the screen of the machine displaying his heartbeat and other vital functions before looking back at him.

“Much better,” Tony honestly replies. “Still not perfect but ready to try some solid food again.”

Natasha softly chuckles.

“I’ll see if I can convince Bruce to let you do that.”

Tony looks at her, at her clean face that shows the bags under her eyes and the soft lines of worry on her forehead, and asks her, “So you and the Doc…?”

Natasha shakes her head and takes a seat next to Tony’s legs on the mattress, still facing him.

“It hasn’t been the time to focus on that,” she points out.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees.

A soft silence follows this interaction but they’re both still looking at each other, both still sporting sad smiles on their faces.

The last time Tony and Natasha saw each other things hadn’t quite gone horribly wrong yet but they were about to do so, the team had already been split up and Steve and Tony were about to apply the last nail to the team’s coffin.

The last conversation they had was full of empty threats and cutting remarks and deep hurt that was consuming Tony’s every nerve in his body and his soul: hurt for Rhodey’s precarious situation, hurt for Steve’s disregard of the teams’s well-being and Tony’s position, hurt for Natasha’s treachery. 

Tony had been surprised, at the time, about Natasha’s siding with him, not so much because of the cause he was preaching for but because it was Steve defending the other side of it and Tony could have never predicted Natasha standing by his side and not by Steve’s. 

And in the end, he was proven right about that, and that was what had probably hurt the most, the fact that he had been lulled into a false sense of security about her standing by his side when he should have known from the very beginning that it could never last. 

It had felt right to have her by his side through everything that had happened at the time: her support through the endless reunions with diplomats and politicians that he knew couldn’t stand him, her willingness to act as the face of the group of Avengers that was in favor of the Accords, the feel of her gentle hand on her shoulder as she asked him if he was okay. 

Having her in front of him is painful and delightful both because if there was one thing he never doubted through everything that happened between them back then was that Natasha was hurting too. If there was something he never once doubted it was that Natasha, inexplicably, after everything they had been through, cared about him too. 

And he can see that confirmed in the misty look in her eyes as her gaze takes in all of Tony’s body laying in bed and she lets out a relieved breath, like she couldn’t quite believe he was alright until she saw it with her own eyes. 

When Natasha seems secure in the fact that Tony really isn’t going to be disappearing on her any time soon, she gets more comfortable on her perch on the bed and looks back at him, the sad smile that seems to be tattooed on her face now still there. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked, right Tony?” she asks. 

Tony nods and he takes that small leap towards the edge he couldn’t take where Steve was concerned.

“I’m sorry,” he says, firmly and decidedly.

Natasha raises her eyebrows and she looks surprised despite herself.

“I didn't think you’d be the one saying it first,” she confesses.

“Yeah, well, time has granted me perspective and I know now that there are worse things that can happen to me than apologizing.”

Natasha’s face twists in pain and she purses her lips tightly, bringing a hand up to her face to run her fingers down the sides of her forehead, pressing them to her temples and giving herself a few seconds to breath.

When she has seemed to calm down again she continues running her hand down her face until she makes a fist to rest her chin on, her knuckles grazing her lips as she speaks.

“I always understood why you did what you did and why you said what you said,” she declares. “I was truly on your side, Tony.”

And he believes her. He has always believed her.

“But I guess I’ve also always been on Steve’s side. I wasn’t agreeing with him in that moment but I couldn’t stop being on his side. And you two, even though you were also disagreeing, you’ve always been on the same side too.”

He’s not so sure he believes that part. 

“We should all have just been better at talking to each other,” she summarizes. 

Tony scoffs and he whispers, “Yeah, maybe.”

“And Tony.” Natasha’s voice is solemn. “I’m sorry, too. I really am.”

Despite his having forgiven her a long time ago something inside him still settles when hearing the words, like maybe the healing process has finally ended for this one emotional wound.

“Natasha…,” he says. “What are we going to do?”

And Natasha starts gently shaking her head, once, and then twice, and then again and again and again, looking like a little girl that’s endlessly lost.

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “Bruce told me that you and him are going to try something?”

Tony huffs, “We’re going to try something alright, although we don’t know what. We just…. We have to try.”

“I’ll help,” Natasha says. “In any way I can. But…”

She hesitates until Tony nudges her lightly with his knee through the blanket that covers him, trying to silently remind her this is an open space where she can speak her mind.

“I also think I need to start helping out more in other ways. I’m going to be contacting government officials and some activists I know have already started doing some work. Things are chaotic outside, Tony. Economically, socially, environmentally, everything’s changed and even if we reverse everything that’s happened, will all those things be alright?”

Tony’s mind goes through every article, every interview, every comment he read. 

“I don’t know,” he replies.

“I don’t know either,” Natasha comments. “So I’m going to try and help on that front too.”

“You’ll tell me how I can help there too, right?” Tony asks her.

The smile she gives him now reminds him so much of one of the last smiles she gave him before the team split ways, sad but fond, small but warming.

“Yes, Tony, I will.”

_______________________________

 

Natasha leaves for a while to retrieve her own tablet so she can work on composing emails and strategies while sitting next to him.

Tony goes back to exploring the Internet but before he can even turn on the table’s screen again, his phone starts ringing on the night table on the right side of his bed.

His body aches softly when he has to stretch to take it but he manages to respond before Pepper hangs up. 

Natasha comes in as his conversation is ending and she only catches him saying, “That’s fine, Pep. Talk to you later.”

She sits down in the sofa and takes off her shoes, curling up with her legs under her.

“How’s Pepper doing?” she asks.

“Well, things are not good for SI right now but it looks like she’ll be able to manage it and we’ll survive,” he announces. “Which isn’t surprising if you think about it. I mean, us rich folks are worst that cockroaches, right? We’re always going to be thriving while the common folks end up always being the ones suffering.”

Natasha looks firmly at him and he knows, in the way that he knows Natasha has learned slowly but surely to understand him, that she can sense the guilt consuming him from the inside.

“Yeah, you absolutely look like you’re thriving right now,” she sarcastically points out. 

She gets serious before she says, “Don’t forget that SI is not only you Tony, it’s all of its people. These are good news for a lot of people. Hell, these might even be good news for the world as a whole.”

Tony stays silent but Natasha knows her words have not been in vain. 

They stay in comfortable silence together for the better part of an hour. 

Natasha goes to the bathroom twice and Tony laments out-loud still having to depend on a catheter, and when she stands up for a third time she brings him a plate with a few apple slices to cheer him up.

“Don’t let Bruce know I gave you that,” she warns. “And if you feel like puking aim away from me.”

At one point during the evening Natasha makes what to anyone else could seem like an offhand comment but what Tony knows is something Natasha has been building up the courage to say for a long time.

“Clint’s whole family got snapped. Laura, the kids… They’re all gone and we can’t find him. We know he’s alive but we can’t find him.”

“Nat…” Tony pronounces but Natasha interrupts him.

“I don’t want to talk about it but I thought you should know.”

Tony nods and he goes back to his tablet where he’s been doodling aimlessly since a headache started building up behind his eyes after reading too much on it.

He starts keeping a closer eye on Natasha after that.

After another half hour has gone by Natasha stretches her arms above her head and cracks her back, letting out a groan of satisfaction.

“Go to bed, Nat,” Tony tells her. “You can keep helping the world tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she agrees and stands up, folding the blanket she had been using to cover herself with and resting it on the back of the couch.

She walks over to him and bends a little bit at the waist so he doesn’t have to look up at her awkwardly. 

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

Tony frowns, confused, but he nods anyway. 

“You told Steve you weren’t glad you were alive. Is that true?”

Natasha doesn’t mince or sugarcoat her words and the shock that goes through his body makes it feel like the room has suddenly turned a hundred degrees hotter. 

“He told you about that?” Tony asks, not exactly surprised but definitely indignant.

“He’s worried, Tony,” Natasha says and this makes Tony scoff.

“Sure he is,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his every word. “That’s why he’s here asking the question and not you.”

Natasha brings one of her hands up to his cheeks and she feels the stubble he hasn’t shaved while caressing him gently.

“You two need to talk.”

“Tell that to him, Nat,” he demands. 

“I have,” she replies.

“And yet he’s still not here,” Tony quips.

Natasha is not subtle when she rolls her eyes at him and it painfully reminds him of days and nights spent at the Tower before the whole ordeal with Ultron happened, when one of the guys would do something extremely loud, boisterous or reckless and Natasha would reprimand them with a simple, _“Boys”_ and a very unsubtle roll of her eyes.

“Okay, I’m sorry I mentioned Steve,” she says, not sounding apologetic at all. “But would you answer the question? I’m worried too.”

Tony takes a deep breathe and tries to find the best way to make himself understood.

“I don’t wish I was dead, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to… I’m not thinking of killing myself or anything like that, okay?” he promises. “But I can’t say I don’t feel certain guilt about being alive when others aren’t. I’m going to do everything in my power to use this opportunity  I’ve been given but maybe… If I had the chance… I’d give up my life to bring some of them back.”

Natasha nods, her eyes still firmly holding his, and she moves forwards further to kiss the cheek she had previously brushed with her fingers.

“Me too, Tony,” she says. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re one of the people I still have here.”

 

_______________________________

 

It takes Bruce three more days to deem Tony fit enough to be let out of bed and the recovery room.

During those three days he keeps checking and monitoring Tony while Natasha flints in and out of the room, sometimes staying long hours and sometimes just popping in for a minute to get a reassuring look at Tony and then leave. 

Rhodey is back by the time Bruce has set to extract Tony’s catheter and it’s only his presence and the knowledge that Rhodey already has too much blackmail material on him that keeps Tony from crying of joy when the damn thing is out and he can go to the bathroom on his own. 

Tony’s dietary choices are still very limited because not every food sets well in his stomach but when he looks in the mirror he can tell he’s slowly but surely gaining back some of the weight he lost during his time on space.

Pepper calls him the day Bruce tells him he will be able to move around freely again and tells him she believes it’s a good idea that he stays in the Compound.

“You might be well enough to be out of bed now but I don’t think you’re fit for the journey to Malibu,” she declares.

His silence lets her know Tony agrees even if he doesn’t want to confess his weakness out-loud.

“And going to the mansion so that you can be all alone… I don’t like it. You have Bruce, Natasha, Thor and Steve there.  And Rhodey, for now.”

Half of the people Pepper mentioned first are going nowhere near him at the moment and she pretty much acknowledged that Rhodey is still a wildcard in terms of permanent residence, but Tony doesn’t tell her that. 

“Will you please just stay there for a while?” Pepper practically begs him, and he’s defenseless to deny her this one thing. 

 

_______________________________

 

His room at the Avengers Compound looks the same as it did the last time he was here, almost six months ago, when a meeting with Rhodey, Vision and some government officials had been held in one of the conference rooms. 

In recent times, every time he has stayed in New York, either by himself or both Pepper and him have stayed at the old Stark mansion.

The first time they both got there the place looked morose and lugubrious but Tony made sure that from then onwards the place would be fit for them to make a visit every once in a while, employing some staff to take care of its upkeep when they go for a relatively long period of time without stepping foot in it. 

His room at the Compound has been nothing but a place to keep some of his clothes to change into if he’s ever in a rush for a meeting for a while now so walking into it brings back a weird feeling for Tony. 

He once had a thought -a dream, perhaps- that this place, the Compound, could be something grander than any one had ever seen before, and maybe, after Ultron, even if he hadn’t personally been there to see it, it had been for a few months. 

Natasha, Wanda, Sam, Steve and Vision had taken residence there and Rhodey, as always, came and went as he pleased. Some of SI’s divisions had been moved as well and even new people had been employed to help the Avengers with some of the most tedious, bureaucratic and technological tasks.

After the issue with the Accords happened the Compound became a ghost of its former self. Only Vision still regularly used his rooms and even he didn't spend as much time there as he had used to. 

Tony had relocated some of the people that had worked there back to other Stark Industries bases and only half of the usual buoyancy that had characterized the place in its greater days still moved the rhythm of the days there. 

Now, the Compound isn’t even worth being called a ghost, a phantom. The Compound is only the remembrance of a spirit, the last echoes of a soul that has been dead for too long to still be felt in any way.

Everything is dark and quiet and Tony gets an uncomfortable chill down his spine roaming the halls of the building, or sitting at the kitchen table to have a quick snack, or looking out the window as the sun sets behind the trees in the horizon. 

Some times the feeling gets even worse if Natasha or Bruce are standing right next to him because without having to talk to them about it he knows they’re feeling the same things.

The times that are the worst, though, are the times when he catches a quick glance of Steve through a window, or their paths nearly cross walking different directions in a hallway, or he encounters various things that remind him that Steve is here and yet he’s not here with Tony at all.

_Talk to Steve_ , Natasha told him.

These days Tony’s not sure there’s anything left to talk about.

 

_______________________________

 

As soon as Bruce gives the okay for Tony to move around and try to have as normal of a life as it was possible again, Tony goes back to work. Work for him being trying to fix the world Thanos had left them with.

Bruce and him start reading every book, every paper, every text they could get their hands on, be it about any number of sciences they believe could be helpful or about any other topic they would have dismissed in a previous life, books about magic, and rituals, and religions and forces beyond human understanding.

They have Okoye send them everything she feels could be helpful.

They contact Nebula and Rocket to ask for their opinion on extraterrestrial topics and facts.

They get Carol to point them in the direction of specific people, be them from Earth or not, that are still around and could help them even just a little bit.

They work day after day after day. And that turns into week after week after week.

Pepper comes back to New York and stays with him for a little over a week and during that time they have videoconferences with shareholders and employers from all around the globe, even with other companies from their sector that have started cooperating more with them to try and keep the markets from crashing. 

Pepper even gets involved in some of the governmental and humanitarian work Natasha is doing and he works alongside them in relieving some of the devastating consequences that are still appearing in the world after everything. 

But no matter what, Bruce and him don’t stop working. 

The fight never ends. 

The two-month anniversary of the Decimation comes around and they do their best to ignore it as they work the day away but when Tony’s stomach rumbles and he starts feeling light on his feet -easier to happen now than before- they put everything aside and call Natasha to see if she wants to have dinner with them because maybe ignoring it while the three of them are together will be easier somehow, right?

But she tells them Steve and her decided to attend some of the memorials being held that night and by sharing a single glance Bruce and Tony both know neither of them are up for that much yet. 

They swing by Thor’s rooms but they find them empty and it’s not difficult to make an educated guess about his whereabouts for the three hours he’s been missing when he comes back smelling of rancid booze and dirty sewage. 

When the sun rises again the next day, nothing has changed.

The people that were gone are still gone, there’s still empty spaces to signify all the trees that disappeared and the morning birds don’t sing as loud anymore due to their half numbers.

Tony and Bruce are still working. 

And they work and they work and they work.

But through everything they try again and again and again they can only reach one conclusion: there is, perhaps, nothing to be done. 

 

_______________________________

 

FRIDAY wakes Tony up really early in the morning or really late at night, depending on how you look at it. 

Bruce and him spent the whole previous day in talks with a shapeless alien that communicated with them through the intergalactic video conference set up by Nebula and Rocket by projecting voices into their head. 

The experience had been unlike anything Tony had ever lived before and, from a scientific standpoint, it was marvelous and terrific to be able to participate in something like that. From a more personal view of things Tony had gotten bored of it after two hours and well into the third one he had realized the conversation was going nowhere and the information this guy had supposedly had on souls and matter had all been useless in the end.

Bruce and him had parted ways at 1:45AM, both grumpy and frustrated. 

When FRIDAY’s voice pulls him away from his sleep Tony grumbles and turns over to his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow. 

“What time is it, FRIDAY?”

His voice is muffled by the pillow and he’s pretty sure no human would have ever been able to understand a single thing of what he said but it’s proof of his genius that his AI makes out perfectly fine what Tony had pronounced. 

“It’s 5:37 AM, boss.”

Before Tony can even utter his disbelief at the hour and inquire as to why she woke him up, FRIDAY answers the unasked question and Tony starts wondering if his AI has also developed some sort of mind reading power and if that is the case, he probably should be feeling more worried about it. 

“Captain Rogers is requesting everyone’s presence in the living room.”

Any small trace of contentment and good humor Tony had woken up with completely washes away as FRIDAY names Steve.

Steve and him haven’t spoken a word to each other in a little over four weeks and the idea of having to face him makes Tony weak at the knees, even in his position lying in bed.

If Tony takes his time to think about it his reluctance to see Steve has less to do with anger now and more with nerves.

There’s still a part of him that resents Steve for the way he handled things and the choices he made but that part is irrevocably entangled with the part of him that resents his own choices and decisions. 

The other part of him, the bigger part of him, has been reshaped and reborn since coming back from space and having had to live in a world reshaped and reborn too. The way he blew up at Steve had been satisfactory and necessary for Tony’s own peace of mind but it had also been fueled by the feeling of desperation inside him and the knowledge that if there was anyone in the world he could make the target of his hate that would be Steve, who’d rise to the bait and kick back at him.

But since that night weeks ago Tony has been thinking and thinking and thinking about it and he still can’t wrap his mind around how little Steve had pushed back at him. Steve had stood stoically and silently and taken everything in, every one of Tony’s words and his jabs and his taunts and his hateful looks. And all he had said had been _“I’m sorry”_.

And then, Steve had sought him out at what had probably been one of the lowest points in his life, if not the lowest. He had gone to Tony and he had put his very soul in Tony’s hands and he had stripped himself bare, had laid down his armor and just cried, cried enough for both of them while clinging to Tony.

That was four weeks ago, though, and since then Steve hasn’t even come to ask him how he’s been even if he knows Natasha has been given him regular updates on him and Tony has been left wondering if he made a misstep somewhere or if this is Steve’s way of letting him know the new status quo.

And that’s what causes his nerves now. The weirdness of it all, the duplicity of Steve’s behavior, the uncertainty of their stance and, most of all, the desire he feels deep inside him to finally get over this, to finally be able to free his soul of this one burden.

Tony groans and he turns over again, leaving himself staring up at the ceiling.

“FRIDAY, lights at 10%.”

The lights brighten lightly and Tony sits up in bed rubbing at his eyes and stretching. 

Before leaving the room he takes a deep burgundy robe to pull over his thin pajamas and he sets course towards the living room.

As soon as he gets there he sees that Natasha is already next to Steve and he can see Bruce arriving from the opposite hallway, looking scruffy and disheveled and Tony knows they’re mirrors of each other at the moment. 

“What’s all this about?” Bruce inquires before Tony can.

Natasha shrugs, “Steve wouldn’t tell me unless you were all here.”

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“I just didn’t want to have to repeat myself.”

He then reaches for something inside his sweatpants’ pocket. 

“I was just coming back from my routine run around the perimeter when I found this,” he says while extending his hand.

A small folded piece of paper is presented to Natasha, Bruce and Tony and before the two men can even make a move towards it Natasha practically rips it from Steve’s fingers. 

“I’m leaving. Thor,” Natasha reads.

No one speaks after her for a few seconds and Natasha’s eyes don’t move from the paper in her hands.

When Tony turns to look at Bruce it hurts him to see the man look so dumbstruck. It’s looks as if someone had punched him in the stomach and he had been forced to exhale all air inside his lungs and then forgotten to breathe again. 

Tony still feels like he doesn’t really understand the situation so he asks, “What?”

Steve is the one to respond.

“That’s what the note says. It just says: ‘I’m leaving.’ And then it’s signed with Thor’s name.”

“But where has he gone?”

Tony looks at each and every person in the room as he asks the question. Bruce still hasn’t left his stupefied state, Steve is looking at some indistinct point across the room and Natasha’s eyes, when they meet his, reflect the same kind of confusion Tony is feeling. 

“I don’t know, that’s all the note says. He didn't talk to me about leaving,” Steve says. 

“Valkyrie.”

Bruce’s voice is full of wonder, but a strange one if that. He suddenly looks as if he has just realized something and he was beating himself up for not having put the pieces of the puzzle together sooner.

“She called me a couple of weeks ago,” Bruce explains. “She was thinking of settling with all the remaining Asgardians somewhere on the north of Europe because she said they couldn’t keep roaming around as wanderers from one planet to another forever and she knows how much Earth means to Thor.”

Bruce goes silent and the other three of them are looking intently at him but not saying anything, just watching their friend struggle pretty visibly.

“I just… I knew him leaving was a possibility but I thought…I believed that he’d…” Bruce stammers. “I thought he’d come talk to me.”

Bruce’s words create an invisible but telling effect on the rest of them. They all know out of all of them Bruce had been the closest to Thor since the time he spent on space that he hasn't yet told anyone else about. He had been the one trying the hardest to help pull Thor out of the grand, black hole the Asgardian had fallen in and every time he failed he still stood next to Thor, lending him a shoulder to cry on, sitting with him as Thor didn’t say a word in hours, making sure he wouldn’t harm himself too badly.

“I can’t believe…”

Bruce’s voice is nothing more than a whisper now and he starts shaking his head gently while he runs his hands through his dark hair.

“Bruce,” Natasha responds in kind, but before she can say anything else Bruce abruptly turns around and heads down the hallway he came from.

That leaves Natasha, Steve and Tony still standing around the little coffee table in the living room, a glaringly empty space next to Tony staring back at them.

Natasha sighs and she puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder and then a hand on Tony’s elbow.

“I’ll go talk to him,” she says, and walks away briskly, following Bruce’s previous path.

And then there were two. 

Steve and Tony are standing on opposites ends of the table, maybe three feet of distance between them but it feels like they’re standing closer than ever and yet a thousand miles apart.

Tony is still looking in the direction Natasha went, not wanting to look over at Steve, but through the  corner of his eye he catches movement from Steve. For a second Tony is sure Steve will leave the living room without uttering a single word to him but Steve heads for one of the sofas in the room, letting himself plop down on it, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

By now Tony has turned so his body faces Steve, more interested to see what Steve’s doing than reluctant to meet his gaze.

Steve places his elbows over his knees and lets his head hang forward, only supported by his hands tangling in his hair.

“What a mess of a team we’ve become.”

Steve’s quiet voice surprises Tony and he gives a light startle. It really doesn’t count as Steve talking to him directly because the comment was mostly spoken into the air but it’s more than Tony has gotten in weeks and it makes him feel eager for more, even if it’s just scraps of a feeling, crumbs of a connection.

“We haven’t been a team in a really long time, Cap.”

It looks like Tony’s response disconcerts Steve too, almost as if he had forgotten that Tony was still standing in the same room as him. Steve pulls his head up and his elbows unbend, his arms resting pliant on his legs. He focuses his gaze on Tony and when their eyes meet it seems like everything stops for a second. 

Steve’s voice brings everything back to a start when he says, “You’re right.”

Tony scoffs, “First time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

Steve stays silent but he continues looking at Tony. 

After maybe a minute has gone by Tony starts fidgeting and transferring his weight from one leg to another, simply looking for something to do under Steve’s intense gaze.

It’s after the second minute has gone by and Tony has grown tired of counting seconds in his head that he makes the decision to leave even if that feels somehow like being the one to surrender. 

“Well,” he says. “This was a riveting conversation but I think I will be taking my leave now.”

He moves, walking around the table and taking the long way out of the room simply to avoid having to pass Steve’s position on the sofa. He’s not walking slowly but he’s making sure to project a casualness he doesn’t truly feel and he thinks years of media handling make him an expert at it. 

He’s already out of the room and stepping into the hallway that leads to his room when Steve calls out to him.

“Tony.”

Steve’s not shouting, he hasn’t even raised his voice above a normal tone of conversation, but Tony can hears his voice clearly and perfectly. Maybe if there had been any other sounds he wouldn’t have been able to but the Compound is eerily silent these days, especially at night, when Tony sometimes swears he can hear everyone’s breaths as they try to futilely fall asleep because that’s a thing they all perfectly share nowadays, the crippling insomnia. 

“Tony,” Steve calls again, his voice the same steady volume but this time a little more desperate sounding.

Steve’s super-hearing must be letting him know that Tony is still standing there, right outside his field of vision, stuck and paralyzed making no moves to join him or walk away. 

“Please.”

That’s the word that does it for him.

This time his walk has a more measured pace but eventually the delay has to end and he’s walking back into the living room where Steve is waiting, now stood up again, his hands inside his sweatpants’ pockets and his shoulder squared up as if ready for a fight.

But Tony is tired. He’s exhausted. 

He’s tired from the aforementioned insomnia, he’s tired from all the fruitless work he has been doing with Bruce, he’s tired because it’s not even 6 in the morning, he’s tired because he can feel Pepper and him pulling apart once again no matter how much they both try to ignore it, he’s tired because although it’s been a month he still feels his body’s resistance after his endeavor in space, he’s tired of not having seen Rhodey in more than a week and he’s especially tired of fighting.

He’s especially tired of fighting with Steve.

So he stays silent, not inciting any challenge, and he lets Steve take the lead on this because he won’t be the one giving Steve the fight he seems to be preparing for.

They stay in silence a couple of minutes, Steve obviously waiting for Tony to say something -most likely something incendiary- and Tony refusing to speak.

Taking his right hand out of his pocket Steve brings it over to the top of his head and makes a few abortive movements as if he wants to run it through his hair or touch the back of his neck or scratch at his chin, before lowering it again and putting it back into the pocket.

He sighs and Tony suddenly can feel deep in his bones Steve’s own exhaustion, a perfect mirror image of his own.

“I’m sorry.”

Something breaking and reshaping itself.

This time, because Steve is actually saying this to his face when he’s not passing out and he can properly hear it, Tony is able to ask, “What are you apologizing for?”

“Everything, I guess,” Steve replies. “I’m apologizing for not apologizing sooner. I’m apologizing for not coming to you before to see how you were doing. I’m apologizing for the way I handled things back then and Siberia. I’m apologizing for not being there with you when you fought Thanos and that we had to lose so many people because we weren’t a team. I’m apologizing for not believing you when you told us this was going to happen. I’m apologizing for—“

During his whole speech Steve hasn’t stopped to breathe once and Tony can clearly see he is getting more and more riled up. It’s only because he knows what the beginnings of an anxiety attack look like that he walks over to Steve, without touching him just in case that is not appreciated or it triggers him, and tries to help him along.

“Cap, hey, hey, look at me,” Tony calls but Steve is still breathing heavily and not really listening to him.

“Steve.”

The use of his name brings some clarity to Steve’s unfocused eyes and he finally seems to be coming back to himself, his breaths regulating slightly.

“That’s it, that’s good,” Tony encourages him. “Just breathe with me.”

Tony starts taking deep breathes and prompting Steve to do the same.

“Can I touch you?” Tony asks, hands stretched towards Steve’s shoulders but not actually touching him, just hovering in the air. 

Steve nods and Tony places his hands on Steve’s shoulders, gently guiding him backwards towards the couch so Steve can sit down. 

Tony takes a seat next to him, to Steve’s left, leaving some space between their bodies but close enough that their knees touch where Steve’s legs are widely spread so he can put his head between them and breathe.

Tony uses his right hand to run soothing circles on Steve’s back, working with some of the things that have made Tony feel better in the past in the moments when things have seemed too out of control and his shoulders had wanted to crumble under the world’s weight.

Tony doesn’t speak during this time except to guide Steve along on his breathing and remind him he’s still there, things like “That’s good”, “Keep breathing” and “I’m here”.

Tony and Steve stay like that for a good half hour and during that time the sun has made its way up the sky, bathing the room in a collage of oranges and yellows and making Steve’s hair almost shine where a stray ray is hitting it just right. 

Steve’s breathing has slowed down enough that now it can’t be heard and the silence that creates makes Tony weirdly uncomfortable and it makes him deeply aware of every part of him that’s touching Steve. 

Clearing his throat, Tony withdraws the arm that was still placed on Steve’s back and scoots his body a little more to the left to create more space between his and Steve’s bodies just in time for Steve to straighten his back and turn around to face Tony.

Steve swallows and the movement of his Adam’s apple is so harsh it draws Tony’s eyes to his neck. As soon as he realizes he’s staring Tony pulls his eyes away.

“I’m sorr—“ Steve starts to say but Tony cuts him off.

“Steve, don’t. Don’t apologize for that. It’s nothing to be sorry for.”

His words might have sounded a bit too harsh but Tony wants to make it clear that this is something he would never hold against Steve. 

Steve nods. “Okay, okay.”

“It’s still pretty early,” Tony informs him after looking at the digital clock next to the television set and seeing the numbers 6:27AM reflected back at him. “Maybe we both could use a bit more sleep.”

Tony starts to stand up when a hand settles on his knee, stopping his progress. Tony looks at the hand and then follows the arm to end up looking at Steve, whose face is set in a concerned expression.

“Don’t leave. I want to talk,” Steve pleads.

Tony sinks back down onto the couch and Steve’s hand moves away from his body, leaving them not touching once again.

“We can talk another time, Cap. You just had an anxiety attack and I don’t think it’s wise to be doing this now,” Tony explains. 

Steve nods. “I know and I’m grateful that you’re looking after me but I think I need to do this now. We’ve been— _I’ve_ been putting this off for way too long.”

Tony has been looking at Steve in the past hour for longer that he’s done so in weeks but now he really focuses on him, trying to read in the tightness around his eyes, the lowered corners of his lips and the slight tremble of his fingers how best to proceed. 

Because Steve is right, they’ve been putting this off for way too long and it has caused it to fester, to rot and poison them slowly until all they can taste is their failures and the only way to act is by cutting away pieces of themselves and the other. 

“I just want to finally talk, Tony. To try and make things right,” Steve insists. “Please.”

And it’s that damn word again and the way in which Steve pronounces it that, as always, convinces Tony to carve his chest wide open and let his heart out for whatever is about to happen. 

Tony nods. “Okay, we can talk.”

Steve lets out a sigh of relief and he sinks onto the back of the couch. 

Tony moves towards the left arm of the couch, not to put distance between him and Steve this time but to rest his back on it and still be able to face Steve.

“Where do you want to start?” Tony asks.

A frown deepens the lines on Steve’s face and Tony is hit by the sudden realization of how Steve looks older than he did when they both first met. It shouldn’t be that surprising because over 6 years have gone by since then and Tony can definitely tell _he_ has grown older, but Steve has always felt like this unchanging myth and, also, no one has ever been sure on how the serum would affect Steve’s aging. 

“I don’t know,” Steve confesses and he looks surprised by his lack of concrete response. “There’s so many things to talk about.”

“We don’t have to tackle everything right now,” Tony reassures him. “We’ve got time.”

“Do we?”

Steve’s question brings everything to a halt. 

Do they?

 The correct answer would be that it’s not an issue of time anymore, at least not for them. They’ve got time because, against all odds, they were amongst the survivors. While other people -people that probably believed they had their whole lives ahead of them- ran out of time they’re still here minute after minute and time is a commodity they can’t take for granted. 

The correct _and_ more accurate question that Steve should have probably asked is, now that they have time, are they willing to use it on each other? Does Tony feel ready to gift Steve a part of his life so they can work on everything they let separate them before? 

But maybe that is actually what Steve was trying to ask him because, maybe, Steve knows as well as Tony does what their weaknesses are. 

So Tony decides to go for the simplest and shortest answer in the hopes that Steve will fully understand.

“Yes.”

The look on Steve’s face and the way his eyes seem to sparkle after Tony’s response tells Tony that yes, Steve perfectly understood.

“Good,” Steve says. “So maybe… Maybe we can just start by kind of… I don’t know… The whole Accords business? Maybe… The Bucky thing?”

Tony feels somewhat more relaxed hearing the hesitation in Steve’s voice towards the topic but it’s still a big and scary step to take so he inhales deeply before nodding his assent. With one of his hands he makes a vague gesture giving Steve the go ahead to be the first one to talk. 

“Regarding the Accords,” Steve starts. “I’m sorry that things happened how they happened because I believe we were both right in some ways. I understood where you were coming from and I understood that the world needed some kind of promise from us, a show of goodwill, us recognizing that we’re not infallible and that our viewpoint is not the only valid one. But I couldn’t get on board with something that felt so much like signing the Avengers off to other leaders. I felt like we were being made into puppets to be controlled by people that we didn’t even know, people that said they had the world’s interests at heart but… How could we really tell? How could I trust them?”

“Especially after SHIELD’s fall,” Tony guesses.

“Yes.” Steve nods. “It was never about me not trusting you, Tony. I need you to know that. I was glad that you were kind of involved in them in the way that you were because that made me feel like they were more legitimate but… I just… I…”

Steve sighs and he shakes his head before continuing and Tony hadn’t realized before but his fingers are nervously twitching where his hands rest on his lap. 

“I felt like the Accords were something that was dumped on us, like we didn’t have a choice in the matter. How could they be the best decision for us when we didn’t even have a say in them?”

“I told you there could be revisions. We could have worked to make them more to our liking,” Tony reminds him.

“I know, I know,” Steve agrees. “I think if only the Accords business had been going on things could have gone very differently. I would have listened to you, I swear. And I think you would have listened to me too.”

“Yeah,” Tony whispers.

Steve smiles sadly. “We could have handled things like a real team. We would have held meetings and everyone would have had a voice and we could have created something good for both us _and_ the world. We could have worked together. But…”

“Barnes.”

“And Peggy’s death before that,” Steve says. “Something that should have been about logic and reasoning got overshadowed by the fact that… Fuck, Tony, I was not in a good mental state.”

“And then before we knew it we were fighting each other in a fucking airport,” Tony notes. “Yeah, not a good emotional shake up for anyone.”

“Yeah. Everything seemed to happen so fast. Time…”  Steve scoffs. “Always my worst enemy.”

“I never wanted the Accords. God, did I not want them, “ Tony declares. “But I needed them. _We_ needed them. But I never thought I’d have to choose the Accords over anyone in the team. It was always supposed to be Avengers business. All of the Avengers.”

Tony swallows and looks away from Steve for a second, focusing his gaze on the wide set of windows where he can see the trees moving slightly with the early morning breeze. 

“I was also not in a good emotional state,” Tony confesses. “And part of it had to do with the Accords, with why I thought we needed them. That’s why things got ugly in the end, I think, because it became personal.”

A short silence follows Tony’s statement and he feels ready to look back at Steve again, finding him already looking back. 

“And then…” Tony states. 

“Bucky,” Steve finishes for him.

“No,” Tony says. 

Steve frowns and he tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“What?”

“It wasn’t Bucky that happened. It was you, Steve,” Tony stresses. 

Steve’s face is full of pain, a pain so raw it seeps into Tony’s insides. 

“Tony—”

“Look, it’s my time to apologize, okay?” Tony interrupts him before he can continue speaking. “ I’m sorry about what happened, about the way I reacted. I wish I could say I didn’t want to hurt you or Barnes but it wouldn't be true. At the time I really wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting. I’ve never known that kind of rage before. But it wasn’t seeing Barnes, or the Winter Soldier, kill my parents that did it for me and you know it.”

Steve breaks the lock their gazes had been in and now it’s his turn to look out the window as Tony speaks. 

“It hurt, yeah, and it was a shock to know that they had been murdered but…” Tony has to stop to take a deep breath through his mouth and to gather himself before the tears he can feel gathering in his eyes fall. “You knew, Steve. You knew.”

Steve sniffs loudly and though his face is free of tears his lips are pressed together so tightly they’re almost white, as if he’s trying to compose himself and hold back a thousand emotions that want to spill from his very being. 

“I know we weren’t the best of friends, believe me I know. But we were friends,” Tony continues. “At least I thought we were. I trusted you and I cared about you even if I wasn’t good at showing it. It wasn’t Barnes that made me go absolutely mad, and it wasn’t the fact that Captain America had lied to me. It was that I never believed Steve Rogers would do something like that to me.”

The first tear falls from Tony’s eye as Steve’s first tear starts rolling down his left cheek too. An aching sob breaks from Steve’s mouth as more and more tears fall down his face.

“So I’m sorry,” Tony states. “I’m sorry for attacking you and Barnes, I’m sorry we didn't have more times to discuss the Accords, I’m sorry that we didn’t speak in more than two years, I’m sorry that I made you feel like I was more on the Accords’ side than on your side when I just wanted to be on _our_ side and I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me about my parents.” 

“Tony,” Steve sobs. “That was never your fault.”

Tony doesn’t talk even though he wants to say, _I must have done something to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me_. 

He wants to say, _There’s always been something in me that makes people not care_. 

But he doesn’t say anything, he just gives Steve a couple of minutes so he can breathe deeply, sort his thoughts out and then speak.

“I know that the explanation I gave in the letter I sent you with the phone wasn’t a good one and it wasn’t enough,” Steve acknowledges. “But I hate to say that I don’t have a better one even now. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you and it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you because I did, I swear I did. _I do_.”

After long minutes of looking away Steve looks into Tony’s eyes again and everything becomes sharper again, more transcendental and hard-hitting.

“I was afraid for you and selfishly for me too. I was afraid for Bucky. I was confused and I took the easy way out. At the time it would have been more difficult to talk things through and face the situation head on so I ignored it, that’s what I did. Like it would disappear and stop being a problem if I didn’t speak of it.”

Steve shrugs and he laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. 

“You know, I don’t know if I would have ever told you if Zemo hadn’t shown you the tape. I want to say that I would have but…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“But Tony,” Steve turns his body so that it isn’t facing forwards anymore but instead it’s now turned towards Tony, leaving their knees almost but not quite grazing each other. “I do know that I am sorry, _so_ sorry. We’ve both had to apologize for many things but if there’s one apology I want you to believe it’s this one. I am sorry for not telling you how your parents died and I am sorry you had to find out that way. Please believe me.”

And it’s something in Steve’s eyes, in the slight tremble of his voice, in the infinitesimal space between their knees and the way the sun is bathing the room in a golden light. It’s something in the way they both lost so much and yet they still have each other. It’s something in their shared pasts but it’s more something in their upcoming futures. It’s something unexplainable and inimitable that makes Tony do exactly that. He believes Steve. 

“I accept your apologies and I believe them. I hope you can do the same with mine,” Tony says, and in that small concession he feels the last part of his resentment fly away even if a lot of other conflictive emotions stay with him.

“Yes, of course,” Steve assures him, rapidly nodding his head. 

“There’s still a long way to go but… I think we’re doing well this time.”

Tony smiles, just a small curl of his lips but enough to make Steve smile back at him.

“We’ll work on it,” Steve promises. “We have to do better.”

“That we do,” Tony agrees as he stands up from the couch. 

He bends his back and rotates his shoulders until he hears them crack to relieve himself of the stiffness accumulated in them. 

“One more thing,” Steve says, still sitting down on the couch, making Tons have to look down at him. 

“I know we said we have time and we don’t have to talk about everything today but there is one more thing I want to apologize for.”

This time Steve gets up after he speaks and it leaves Steve and Tony facing each other while standing up, a position that could perhaps be felt as aggressive in any other moment but now only serves to make them more receptive to the other, as if standing face to face gives them a better insight into the other’s intentions. 

“I should have gone to see you again when you were still recovering,” Steve says. “I’m sorry I didn’t. After that comment you made, when you said that…”

_“I didn’t say this before but I’m glad you’re okay, Tony. I’m glad you’re alive.”_

_“Yeah, well, that makes one of us.”_

“I thought Natasha would have told you we talked about it,” Tony says. “I told her I didn’t mean it. I never really wished I was dead.”

“She did tell me,” Steve confirms. “And I guess I do understand why you said it because… There have been times I haven’t been that glad to be alive either. But I was so worried, Tony. The idea of you not being alive, of having lost you too… I couldn’t cope with it. So I’m sorry for not having gone  to see you but I thought maybe I would make things worse by being there.” 

“Steve,” Tony whispers, feeling a little dumbstruck. “You wouldn’t have made things worse, I promise.”

Steve smiles sadly and nods. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“So now you can come visit me whenever you want, I guess,” Tony tries for cheery and nonchalant all at once and he probably lands nowhere near either of them.

“You spend most of your time doing God knows what with Bruce,” Steve comments. “If I visited you I’m not sure I’d understand half of what was going on around me.”

“To be fair, I don’t think Bruce and I understand half of what is going on around us when we’re working.”

Steve laughs and Tony chuckles in return. 

“But,” Tony starts, feeling a little hesitant. “I’m not working right now and I don’t think Bruce is going to be feeling up for anything today.”

“Yeah, but we should all talk about the whole Thor situation, though,” Steve says. “If we’re going to try and talk to him or what.”

“Sure, as soon as Bruce feels better about it we will,” Tony agrees. “But for now, as I think sleep is also out of the question… Do you want to do something?”

Steve brings up a hand towards his own chest, pointing with his index finger to his chest as if baffled by Tony’s suggestion. Before Tony can laugh or maybe even coo at the ridiculous adorableness of the gesture, Steve seems to notice his slip, he coughs and brings his arm back down.

“Sure,” he says and he points towards the kitchen. “I’m feeling hungry. You want to help me prepare breakfast? Maybe some pancakes?”

Tony nods. “That was a hearty conversation deserving of breakfast, I believe. So count me in, Cap.”

“Steve,” Steve says. 

“Excuse me?”

“I prefer it when you call me Steve,” Steve clarifies. “Please.”

Tony looks at him, at this man in front of him that he feels like he knows by now and yet he feels like is a mystery still. His disheveled hair, his wide blue eyes, his nervous smile, his square shoulders. He looks at him and sees all the things he shouldn’t be able to see: the pain, the exhaustion, the regrets, the bravery, the confusion and the fear. 

Tony looks at him and is surprised to discover that, for the first time, he really can see only him as Steve. A blank canvas of possibilities for what he could end up meaning for Tony, no past expectations, no forced interactions or unwanted conflicts. 

Maybe this is the moment where they get to be _Tony_ and _Steve_ for the very first time.

“Okay,” Tony concedes. “Okay, Steve.”

Steve smiles and shyly looks down at his running shoes before looking back up and saying, “C’mon” and heading into the kitchen.

It takes Tony about 15 seconds to follow Steve and in that short time he feels a hope he had thought long gone by now, because if something like him and Steve can be salvaged and remade into something much better maybe this world- this broken shell of a world- has a chance after all.

Maybe he will get to save the world and maybe Steve will be there to help him this time.


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for the support and the love this story is receiving. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this third chapter.

“I am graciously letting you pick once again, Steve.”

“Graciously, he says! I won fair and square. It’s not my fault you’re so bad at rock, paper, scissors.”

“I’m not bad at it! There’s no strategy to it! It’s just luck!” 

The Moon sits high in the sky and it casts the room in a soft, blue glow, giving it an almost ethereal feeling. It feels strange to think that after everything that has happened this moon that Tony can now see through the wide set of windows of the living room is the same one he has always stared at. 

He has never been particularly interested or amazed by astronomy, not even as a kid had he been into imagining himself amongst the stars, much more interested in engineering of every type, robots and machines and things one could find in this Earth. 

But the Moon… Tony believes there’s a point in everyone’s life where the Moon succeeds at captivating your entire attention. 

For now, though, although it reigns high in the sky, full and blue and enticing, it’s not succeeding at capturing anyone’s attention in the Avengers Compound living room. Steve and Tony, the only two people in the room at the moment, are too busy bickering and throwing each other popcorn to pay it much attention.

The only other light in the room apart from the dim shine of the Moon comes from the television screen, set on the Blu-Ray player’s home screen. 

For the past two weeks this has become sort of a routine for both Steve and Tony. 

That day after their conversation -their first ever real and completely open conversation, Tony thinks- Steve and Tony made breakfast and spent almost the entire day together, waiting to see if Bruce and Natasha would return or if maybe just Natasha would come rely some information to them about Bruce’s state. 

But neither of them showed up again in any public spaces around the Compound so Steve and Tony had to fend for themselves. 

It had gone a lot smoother than Tony could have ever hoped but that is not to say there hadn’t been glitches and awkward stumbles from both of them: Steve had made a comment about his time spent as a fugitive with Sam and the rest of the team that had painfully reminded them both of Siberia and Tony had had to retreat into his room for some solitude, Tony had made an ill timed joke that had made Steve’s eyes glaze over and his hands has started to shake.

It was a give and take. A dance and a stumble.

They’re both still learning, but as they spend more and more time together they’ve become better at reading the other, or at least these new versions of themselves that had grown and developed during the two years they hadn’t spent together at all. 

The movies had been an accident and a sort of salvation. 

Well into the evening of the day Thor had left the Compound they had ran out of things to comfortably talk about, TV programs to flip through or newspaper articles to read and discuss.

Steve had made lunch for both of them and, as they were debating whether to order some take-out for dinner or not, Steve had said, “We could call for a pizza and maybe… Would you like to watch a movie?”

They settled on one of Disney’s newer releases because even though no one would have ever predicted Captain America and Iron Man would ever pick that one, it seemed like the safest choice at the time.

Steve had explained to Tony, during the slower-paced parts of the film, that even though it had been over 7 years since he had been pulled from the ice and his initial plans had been to catch up with as much pop culture as possible, his situation during most of those years hadn’t actually been conductive for that. 

“Remember the time when we all lived at the Tower for a while?” Steve had asked, as if Tony would ever be able to forget. “That was probably when I had the most time for it. And well… You helped a lot.”

“I remember how much you loved Star Wars,” Tony had said and that had brought a smile to Steve’s face.

“You recommended them to me before I moved to D.C, before the whole…. Hydra thing,” Steve had remembered. “I kept meaning to watch them but… It felt wrong that you were the one to tell me about them and I wouldn’t be watching them with you.”

Something in Tony’s chest had given a painful lurch at the words. “I’m glad you honored me with being able to see you watch them for the first time, then.”

That had been over two weeks ago and since then Steve and Tony have been able to watch 10 movies together, scheduled during the free times they’ve both found. 

Once, both Natasha and Bruce had joined them in the living room for a marathon of the _Ocean’s_ trilogy. 

On another memorable occasion, Rhodey had showed up halfway through _Titanic_ and the three of them had ended the night trying to covertly wipe their tears away as they made their excuses to all go to their rooms. 

And if Tony thinks about it, it probably hadn’t been the best movie pick for times like they were facing. 

And alas why they had been finding more and more Disney movies to play, even if they could hardly ever agree and they always spent at least 10 minutes trying to convince the other their choice was the legitimate one until they gave up and finally settled things by a game of rock, paper scissors of which Tony was 99% of times always the loser.

Today, though, when Tony proposed they watch _El Dorado_ because “I think you’re going to love it, Steve, I really do” he had been so sure that he’d finally best Steve as he had refuted his choice by nominating _Inside Out_ and they had set themselves to once again face each other in the damn game.

But once again Tony lost and once again Steve is gloating because if there is one thing Steve Rogers had been born as and has never, ever lost -even through all the trials and tribulations of his life- it is being stubborn and competitive.

From his place sitting on the sofa Tony watches as Steve stands up to pick up the Blu-Ray case for _Inside Out_ and walks over to the TV set. 

“I don’t even know what you’re complaining about,” Steve says as he inserts the Blu-Ray into the player and presses the button to close it. “You were the one who said you wanted to watch this movie the other day.”

Tony takes a fistful of popcorn and brings it over to his mouth.

“That was the other day,” Tony says while chewing on the food making Steve pull a mildly disgusted face at him. “Today I wanted to watch something else. Keep up, Buttercup.” 

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass,” Steve declares as he takes a pillow and throws it at Tony, who easily dodges it.

“Thanks, I try.”

If someone had tried to tell Tony that this would be the kind of easy and fitting conversation he’d be able to have one day with Steve Rogers Tony would have either laughed in their faces or completely blanked at the idea. Not even during his best times with both the Avengers and Steve had Tony been able to bring down his walls and open himself up to this kind of effortless companionship with any of them. Not even Bruce, who for a while Tony had considered his second closest friend.

Tony has always been able to admit that part of the blame resided on him. 

Although there had been something inside of his chest pushing him to keep the Avengers close and make them a part of his little world, and even though he granted them the dubious honor of being people he truly and deeply cared about, he had always done so better from a distance. He’d made them his estranged family of sorts. 

He’d been doubtful -and maybe even a little afraid- to let all his inhibitions go and truly let them in.

And then The Thing had happened and any possibility of it ever gradually happening had seemed to vanish.

But almost 3 months into the world post-Decimation Tony can almost one hundred percent say that Natasha, Bruce and Steve have turned into the closest family he has ever had. 

Not a family of obligation by blood, like his parents, not family of choice that through love and work you keep even though it is a thousands of miles away almost everyday, like Rhodey, but a family of building bonds, extensive learning, extreme proximity, rough edges and intense companionship. 

Now, Tony can’t think of any other way it could be: Bruce by his side in the lab as they work the day away, Natasha by his side after both of their nightmares even if it gets hard for them to admit what they’re still doing up. 

And Steve. Steve as he’s cooking while Tony sits quietly at the table. Steve enraptured while watching movies. Steve on his bad days, quiet, withdrawn and then trying to put a smile on his face as if that’s going to fool any of them. 

Tony has never been one to look for the positive side of things in the worst of situations but if there’s only one single thing that he could feel grateful for in this terrible ordeal is the fact that he now knows these people better than he probably does himself. 

Realizing he’s been lost in thought for at least a couple of minutes and seeing Steve watching him intensely, Tony clears his throat and gestures towards the TV.

“Press play, then,” he signals. “Let’s see the movie you’re making us watch today.”

 

_______________________________

 

Distinguishing between dreams and nightmares is very hard these days for Tony. 

Or more like, dreams and nightmares are one and the same nowadays, his happiness horrific and his fears invigorating somehow. 

Nowadays, he is able to remember perfectly everything that happens at night inside his head, better than he’s ever been to. Every morning when he wakes up the scenes are still reeling through his head and different moments and instances assault him throughout his day. Whispers of known voices, recognizable faces looking back at him, feelings that transport him back to illusory realities his state of rest creates.

Maybe, he thinks, it’s due to the routine that has been unwillingly created regarding his nights.

Most of them start exactly the same and so they blur together in his mind, one after the other, making him wonder if years have passed or if a particular week has just been dragging forever. 

No matter what he has been doing during the day and no matter where he is when the sunset greets him, midnight normally finds him laying in bed already, so much earlier than he used to. As loathing as it feels to recognize it, Tony can feel each and every one of his 48 years weighting him down, holding his body back from all-nighters and spending hours upon hours staring at screens and living only on chips and coffee. As the night grows and shifts, his body starts begging for release and Tony has no other choice but to grant it. 

But just because he goes to bed earlier than he’s ever gone to bed before except for his early childhood doesn’t mean his sleep is better. It doesn’t mean peace finds him as his head rests on the pillow. 

Midnight normally finds him laying in bed but sleep rarely finds him easily these days. 

1AM greets him as his eyes roam the ceiling above him, boring and dull but the only think he can keep his attention on. That’s probably the worst part about it. Sleep eludes him but wakefulness does too. 1AM means he’s somewhere in-between asleep and awake, some gray area of conscience where he can’t think clearly but he can’t turn off his brain. 

2AM is when the frustration starts as he begins to twist and turn, feeling constricted by the sheets and oppressed by the eluding nature of his rest. The anxiety starts in his brain but it quickly travels to his chest, specifically his lungs. They burn and ache and clench, refusing to accept the air Tony is working hard on breathing.  2AM is the darkness of the night, the monster that finds you outside of nightmares.

3AM thrusts him violently into sleep, between one breath and the next. It’s not gradual or ordered, it’s surprising and new every time. The last time he calmly went into Morpheus’ arms was back in the recovery room, when his body had no choice but to succumb to oblivion based on how tired it was. Since then it’s been like a battle between all of his neurons to see which one can knock him out in the most vigorous way possible. 

Sleep is a forceful thing that overtakes him and brings him closer to thoughts and emotions he’s been trying really hard to keep under wraps during every waking minute of his day. 

Peter is the unlucky star of most his dreams. He’s the unlucky star of most of his nightmares too. 

(Sometimes Tony thinks maybe Peter was just unlucky to have met him at all.)

In some dreams he is there from the very beginning, the first face Tony sees when he closes his eyes. 

His voice is still so clear in Tony’s head and even in sleep this bring tears to Tony’s eyes.

Tony thinks the worst times might be when a dream that would in no way fit the kid’s presence rearranges itself so that with no warning he’s there and Tony always feels a genuine sense of surprise, no matter how used to it he should be by now. 

There was a dream that Tony had a few weeks ago that to this day is still his favorite. That same dream is, to this day, also the worst one he’s ever had. 

It started out so real that Tony genuinely thought it true for the first few beats of it. 

The streets of Queens were buoyant and they had a red tint to it that reminded Tony of one of his favorite pairs of sunglasses. There was indistinguishable chatter in the streets and although everyone was wearing coats and scarfs, the sun was shining bright and Tony felt a warmth in his bones.

He was standing in front of the windows of an old hardware shop, the display presented to the public full of 80s and 90s technological devices. 

Although Tony was standing right in front of the windows there was no reflection staring back at him, none at all, not his and not the other people’s walking by on the street. Until suddenly, something took shape to his right, a figure as tall as he was but ganglier, full of reds and blues. 

“Mr. Stark!” the reflection said and the image had turned from blurry to clear in just a second.

Tony had turned around quickly and had been greeted by the brightest smile he had ever encountered. 

“It’s so good to see you, Mr. Stark!”

Peter’s excitement hadn’t left him for all the duration of his walk with Tony through the streets of Queens. Dressed in the first Spider-Man suit Tony had ever designed for him, Peter had bounced and trotted and jumped and even swung from his spider-webs while talking non-stop to Tony. 

There had been times Tony had had to remind himself to pay closer attention because although Peter’s lips were moving Tony wasn’t listening to any of his words and, even in dreams, Tony knew what a privilege it was to still be able to hear Peter’s voice. 

The dream had ended pleasantly and slowly, unlike so many other dreams that find him ripped out of them before he’s ever ready to leave. 

Peter had stopped in front of his apartment block and had walked a couple steps forwards until he got in front of Tony and wrapped his arms around him. Tony’s arms had raised slowly and had settled in the middle of the kid’s back. 

“Today was great, Mr. Stark.”

And then, everything had vanished as Tony had opened his eyes and caught the first glimpse of sunlight that morning. 

When Tony thinks about the dream it brings such a joyous feeling to his chest that it makes him sure it will forever be his favorite dream. The imagined glimpses of Peter’s happiness, his innocence and his trust affect Tony so deeply it’s like still having pieces of Peter with him in his every day life.

But when Tony thinks about the dream there comes a time, normally after a couple of minutes reveling on the images of it, when the thought that these are now the only moments he gets to spend with Peter strikes him and punches all the air from his lungs. 

These, the dreams centered around Peter and his presence -his absence too- in Tony’s life, are not the only ones Tony has trouble cataloging as either paradise or hell. 

There are other people that plague Tony’s sleeping thoughts, sometimes sharing dreams with Peter, sometimes starring on movies of their own. 

He’s grown used over the years to dreaming about losing Pepper and Rhodey but more and more lately Steve, Natasha and Bruce have been sneaking themselves into the images of loved ones Tony has to fight for and sometimes fight against and often times watch die. 

There was a period of time, during those months that all the original Avengers took residence at the Tower, where dreams where Tony watched them all die or hurt became the norm. However, a lot of those dreams weren’t really a testament of the team’s close relationship or their devotion to each other, they were more proof of the side-effects and damages that living the live they lead created on Tony. It was more of a general fear and panic and sense of responsibility that had Tony imagining the deaths of his friends, even if he cared for them back then already. 

Now, though, the feelings he gets after waking up gasping and sweating from a dream that includes Steve taking his hand and slowly fading away in a cloud of dust with a smile on his face show more of the unequivocal need Tony has for these people in his life. 

The absolutely gut-wrenching despair that grips his insides when he watches Bruce and Natasha jump hand-in-hand from the tallest floor of the old Avengers Tower confirms that these people are now _his_ people, the ones he can’t bear to lose.

Tony lives in a world where there is little rest to be had until he can bring back the people he lost. 

Tony lives in a world where there is no rest to be had because the people he lost and the people he’s kept still haunt him. 

 

_______________________________

 

It’s always the same.

He wakes up gasping and panting and sometimes even crying. He wakes up wishing he had never gone to sleep and he wakes up wishing he had never woken up. 

Peter’s face is still taunting him, so close and yet so far and Tony throws back the sheets that were covering his body as he sits up in bed, grabbing with his right hand at where the arc-reactor would have once been. 

Everything is dark because of the black-out mode on the windows he had FRIDAY set before he got into bed, but his phone tells him it’s 4:11AM so, even if the windows were in normal mode, Tony would only be able to glimpse the moon and the stars high in the night sky. 

His breathing takes a little way to regulate and his heart also needs a few minutes to resume beating at its normal pace, not at the wild staccato it had taken as he had woken up.

His knees shake a little as he gets out of bed but Tony pushes through it, desperately needing to leave this bed, this room, this space that only suffocates him. 

As he opens the bedroom’s door something inside him stills and quiets even though he’s only a few feet away from the start of his walk. The sight of the Compound’s halls has now different meanings and associations and it succeeds at calming the desperate part of him that feels helpless in his own room. 

Once upon a time Tony’s first stop after a nightmare -dream?- as unsettling as this one would have been anywhere in his vicinity that could provide him with the strongest alcohol possible. He would have hugged a bottle, a glass, a flask or a pitcher just to numb any sort of feeling. He found, with practice, that alcohol is also a great teacher in the art of denial. 

_“Drink and you’ll feel okay.”_

_“Drink and everything will be better.”_

With practice Tony also found that not always the more you repeat a lie the more you believe it. 

Sometimes, the more you repeat a lie the more you come to loathe it. 

His hands shake for some of that old comfort but his steps don’t take him to any sort of alcohol, not that he even knows how much of it they keep around nowadays. 

His legs take him outside instead, through the morning dew and its damp grass until he reaches the benches that are placed overlooking the extensive lake that hardly anyone ever uses. 

Even though the sun hasn’t even come out yet the air is warm already, characteristic of a New York summer night, but a little colder than it would be in the City, where the buildings and sidewalks and cars and people boil everything over until you feel like the only thing you know is the heat of its streets. 

In his haste to escape his room Tony forgot to take his robe with him but he feels okay in just his old-ratty t-shirt -that might have belonged to Rhodey long ago- and the pair of boxers he’s wearing. 

His attention is not set on the warmth or the cold or the dampness or the dryness of the air, anyway. His attention is nowhere and everywhere all at once. 

His eyes are trained forward on some indistinctive point across the lake where a slight breeze rattles the leaves of some trees. His attention is trying to memorize Peter’s face as it smiled at him in his latest dream and simultaneously trying to erase any and every image of it. 

Tony’s lost for a while, drifting aimlessly even though he’s not walking, his mind traveling far and wide, so many miles away one minute and then snapping back in a second to the here and now. 

The minutes pass but Tony’s immune to them, completely disconnected from the passage of time and its meaning.

The sun is peeking through the clouds and replacing the darkness but Tony’s still deep into his oblivion. 

A soft touch to his shoulder is what starts anchoring him back, what puts his wailing and battered soul back into his body. 

“Tony?”

Something breaking and reshaping itself. 

“Hey.”

Tony’s voice sounds gruff and broken when he greets Steve. 

Tony doesn’t move his body but he does move his head, turning it towards the place where Steve’s hand still rests on his shoulder. 

Steve looks almost glowing with the sun shining from in front of him, but his face is anything but peaceful or content at the moment. There’s a deep frown set in his expression, harsh lines he didn’t use to have when Tony first met him grooving his face. 

“What time is it?”

Tony hasn’t cleared his throat so his voice is still mostly a rasp. 

With the hand that is not touching Tony’s body and without removing that one, Steve reaches into the pocket of his running shorts and retrieves his phone. Instead of verbalizing his answer Steve presses the button that lights up the screen and turns the phone around so Tony can look at the time himself.

5:37AM.

Over an hour has passed but to Tony it could have been a minute or it could have been a year. 

The screen of Steve’s Stark Phone -an older model that Tony himself gifted Steve a couple of years ago- is still illuminated and Tony takes notice of the default picture Steve has set as his lock-screen, something impersonal and cold. 

As soon as the screen turns off and Steve can no longer see light coming from it, he puts his phone back into his pocket. 

His other hand is still placed on Tony’s shoulder, unimposing, monumental.

With a small flick of his head to signal the empty space next to Tony, Steve asks, “Can I sit?”

Tony gives a small shrug in reply, turning his head back to look across the lake once more instead of looking at Steve.

His shoulder feels cold when Steve removes his hand from it but suddenly it’s his side that warms up when Steve occupies the space to his left. They’re not touching but Steve’s big and strong body cuts off some of the wind from making it to Tony. He’s also sort of like a furnace, a small star emitting heat that is making its way into Tony’s bones. 

Steve clears his throat but he doesn’t follow that with a question or comment. Tony keeps looking forward, his eyes now lost on the few ripples and moves of the lake water. 

Tony hears Steve sigh, a sound so small he might have confused it with the rustling of leaves if not for how attuned he is to Steve and his being. 

“What’s wrong, Tony?” Steve asks. 

Only a couple of weeks ago Steve wouldn’t have asked the question in the same manner that he is doing now, concerned and caring but also showing a hint of impatience, of edge, most likely based on Tony’s completely closed-off demeanor. Steve would have most likely waited indefinitely at Tony’s side, possibly in absolute silence, getting null acknowledgement from Tony who’d have, after a few hours, simply stood and walked away, leaving Steve and his non-intrusiveness behind.

With his somewhat abrupt enquire Steve is showing everything he’s learnt from Tony in the past few weeks: his tells and his quirks, his excuses and his lies, his silences and his buttons. Steve isn’t backing down, but it’s not like it was between them before, where neither of them would let go of an issue because of stubbornness and pride. Steve is pushing and prodding not for himself but for Tony, for Tony’s own sake. 

Steve, with his presence and his question and his not allowing Tony the chance to run away or deflect, is telling him he wants to help, that he will help. 

Steve is telling him they’re in this -the grief, the pain, the new order of the world- together now. 

And for a second Tony hates him strongly and passionately for it. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony scoffs. “Everything’s fucking wrong, Rogers.”

His instinctive lashing out is met with Steve’s body going rigid in an instant. 

At first Tony thinks Steve must be getting ready for a confrontation but then he somehow realizes what triggered it. He’s not sure exactly how he becomes of aware of it, how it is that he knows, but he does know, to his bones, that Steve’s reaction is not because of the fight that he sees approaching. 

Steve’s tenseness comes from the belligerent use of his last name.

_Rogers._

Tony’s very unsubtle way at distancing himself from Steve. Tony’s very obvious attempt at pushing him away. 

Just a last name. Just a word that brings them back a thousand steps into the past, a past they’ve fought hard to rebuild. A past they’re still trying to give meaning too. 

In the end it’s that last name that changes Tony’s entire stance too; his shoulders drop, his hands unclench and his jaw unsnaps from where it’d had been horribly biting down on his teeth, the tension of the muscles already giving him a headache. 

There’s no other way to say it but by saying that Tony simply gives up. He gives up his stupid anger over being known and understood and recognized. He gives up trying to pretend he hasn’t grown to need Steve again. He gives up trying to pretend like he ever stopped needing him.

With a loud gulp, Tony turns his body so it’s now facing Steve, his knee bent so it won’t intrude on Steve’s personal space where now he’s the one looking unapproachable and combative. 

“Steve,” Tony says, knowing that one word will the do the trick.

And it does.

Steve deflects and he turns his face to look at Tony again, his features so soft it pains Tony how close sometimes he can get to losing this tentative lifeline he’s built for himself.

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” Tony apologizes. 

Steve’s smile is sad and understanding. “We’ve all got bad nights.”

Tony doesn’t need prompting this time to open up. 

“I dreamt about Peter,” he explains.

“A nightmare?” Steve asks.

Tony shakes his head and laughs humorlessly.  

“No, it was a good dream,” Tony says. “He was whole, he was alive, he was…. Happy.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs, prolonging the vowel sound. “Those are the worst.”

Tony nods, agreeing silently with Steve’s statement. 

Steve’s eyes roam and start searching for something, some kind of answer or explanation, on Tony’s face.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time but… I never asked you,” Steve says, hesitantly. “How did you two know each other?”

Tony sniffs and tries to think of the way to say things that will be most perfunctory and that will make him want to cry the least. 

“I’ve always kept tabs on our kind of stuff around the world, you know? Possible superheroes, vigilantes, people this close to going off the rails and becoming super-villains…” Tony puts his fingers really close together, almost touching. “Sometimes I decide it’s not worth it to intervene. So what if the Punisher is walking around like a madman killing every single criminal in his near vicinity? So what if there’s another billionaire playing at being a hero? A robot suit is ten times cooler than a glowing fist, anyway.”

Steve chuckles and Tony knows he too keeps updated on things like that, even if not with the upmost intensity that Tony does.

“Peter was… He was an anomaly,” Tony explains. 

Thinking back on it brings a deep nostalgia to him, a sense of bewilderment at the thought that he never could have predicted caring this much about a kid that he met almost by accident, simply because he was so very bad at hiding his secret identity. 

Tony chuckles. “He was not subtle at all. I didn’t even have to dig deep to find out who he was and it still baffles me that more people didn’t find out about him.”

Steve chuckles with him.

“I left him be, at first. He was in no real danger and he was no danger himself so… I left him be. I should have just left him be.”

Tony starts shaking his head and he can’t hold back the tears anymore. They fall steadily as he blinks but there’s almost an order to them, like his body has learnt the perfect art of crying by now. Enough to release the sadness but not too much to render him unconsolable. 

“You know, Steve, you aren’t my biggest regret in the whole `Civil War´ business,” Tony says, using the name mockingly. “It’s not even Rhodey’s accident, although that kills me up inside every day, but hey! We solved it!”

Tony bites his bottom lip until the pain helps him focus one again. 

“Involving him, Peter, _that's_ my biggest regret,” Tony confesses. “Maybe if I hadn’t, maybe if I had never, maybe if I’d had just left him be…”

He knows it isn’t true, he knows it was only a matter of time until Peter upgraded from petty thieves and street criminals to the bigger leagues, and he knows Peter never needed his help to become the big hero that he was. But the _what if_ haunts him, eats him up inside until all he can think about is how he would gladly give up ever getting to see and hear Peter again if it just meant he was alive.

The order of his tears become a chaos as his vision becomes blurry, Steve’s body growing shapeless in front of him.

“Tony, hey.”

Steve’s hand comes up to grip Tony’s face, his palm cupping Tony’s jaw forcefully and tenderly at the same time, as his thumb wipes away some of the tears running down Tony’s cheek. It’s useless because more just keep replacing them but Tony thinks it’s a nice feeling nonetheless, Steve’s slightly calloused thumb caressing his cheek. 

With a gentle press of his hand Steve summons Tony’s entire attention to himself.

“It wasn’t your fault. Peter’s death wasn’t your fault.”

It sounds exactly like what Tony’s been waiting for months for someone to tell him. It also sounds exactly like what he’s been fearing for months that someone would tell him.

“It’s not my fault but I’m not exactly faultless, you know?”

Steve’s eyebrows raise at the comment and he purses his lips, his nod almost imperceptible.

“I do know a thing or two about misplaced guilt.”

Barnes.

It’s probable Steve is thinking about so many other things as well: Sam, Wanda, the half of the world they’ve lost and still have no idea if they can recuperate. But the topic is heavily intertwined with Barnes’ memory and Tony isn’t sure they're ready to talk about that yet. 

Or maybe that isn’t true, maybe they _are_ ready but that conversation deserves a moment of importance on its own, just like this one does. Maybe this is the remembrance Peter deserves and maybe they’ll need to find the time to give Barnes the remembrance he does. 

Steve smiles when he sees that Tony has stopped shedding tears and he pulls his hand away from Tony’s face, drying his thumb on the fabric of his running shorts. 

A silence stretches between them for a minute or two, so comfortable Tony is reluctant to break it but there’s something he wants to say. 

“Thank you.”

Steve doesn’t ask him to clarify, he just smiles softly and whispers, “Anytime.”

Tony thinks he maybe will take him up on that offer. He also thinks he will be making it back to Steve sometime soon. 

 

_______________________________

 

He does end up taking Steve up on his offer, little by little, a step a at a time.

On the days where his frustration gets him and he feels ready to explode after an entire day of no  fruitful results on his work with Bruce, he searches for Steve. Sometimes they sit in silence and sometimes Tony will talk until his voice goes rough and his mouth feels parched. 

On the days where the sun feels too bright, too much like an undeserved prize, and he doesn’t want to leave the bed, he’s grateful when FRIDAY allows Steve entrance to his room. 

Sometimes Steve will sit next to his body, his legs stretched out before him as he sketches on his notebook. Sometimes Steve will gently coax him out of bed and move him to the couch in the living room, where Tony proceeds to lay down once again but this times surrounded by Steve, Natasha and Bruce too.

On the days where he’s happy, Steve is there too. 

The joy is fleeting and it always leaves a bitter aftertaste, but Steve helps him with that too. He reminds him there is no shame in being alive and feeling every emotion possible. He reminds him the sorrow doesn’t disappear just because he laughs once. At times Steve tries to tell him maybe he deserves the disappearance of the sorrow, the overtaking of his happiness over the bad, but Tony isn’t yet ready for that so Steve quickly changes the subject every time.

Steve is there, in the good and in the bad, and Tony isn’t sure what his life would be like without him in it. He _is_ sure that he doesn’t want to find out.

Tony tries to give Steve the same treatment as he thought back in that conversation by the lake. 

He wants Steve to know he’s ready and willing to hear anything Steve has to say. He _wants_ to hear it. But every time there’s an opening, when an opportunity presents itself perfectly, Steve always deflects and it’s never even subtle.

He smiles and says he’s fine. He turns back the conversation on Tony. He abruptly gets up and almost slaps his forehead in feigned realization at having forgotten this or that thing he should be doing.

Tony doesn’t want to give up, and he won’t, but he lets Steve walk away from these situations knowing that sometimes that’s the best he can offer. 

He gets a little reward in the form of Steve’s admittance of his doings the same day he suits up as Iron Man for the first time in months. 

His body’s state hasn't allowed him to do so sooner. In the months since his return to Earth Tony has gotten steadily better and stronger, so much healthier than during the time he was aboard the _Benatar_. Still, he’s thinner than he’s ever been before, stronger than during his teenage years but maybe leaner than he was. He has days where certain foods upset his stomach and he had to take up training on the Compound’s treadmills to build up his resistance again.

His body would have definitely not withstood the toll of the Iron Man suit. 

Tony thinks that even if he had been to do so physically he would have never found the mental strength before. 

He needed time, he needed to be able to look at his armor and see the salvation it has granted him so many times before and not just the failure it had started to represent.

It’s actually Natasha that asks him to suit up again.

One of the charities she has started to work closely with, an organization taking care of kids that become orphans because of the snap, is in the process of building a massive orphanage in Boston and she believes his presence will give them a boost in publicity because for some reason the remaining Avengers still hold the regard of the majority of the population.

Tony agrees because it’s a good cause. 

He agrees because he’s been itching and dreading to get back in the suit since Bruce gave the okay. 

Tony agrees because Peter was an orphan and, had he survived, he would have been left without any family once more.

Steve comes to Tony’s room as Tony finishes getting into one of his under-suits. He technically doesn’t need them anymore for the nanites to fit over his skin, but he feels more comfortable getting back into them.

“Natasha sent me to fetch you,” Steve announces. “Are you ready?” 

He’s wearing a pair of loose jeans and a gray hoodie that is very soft to the touch. Tony knows this because he’s seen Steve wear the same outfit a hundred times, his preferred clothes for staying in. 

“You’re not coming?” Tony asks.

“I opted out,” Steve replies, a small and rueful smile on his face.

It feels like the moment, not the perfect one but the appropriate one, to do something Tony has been meaning to do for weeks.

“You could come,” he says. “I mean you as in… Captain America, you.”

Steve frowns and his mouth starts opening but Tony moves before he can utter a single word or make a noise.

He walks over to his walk-in closet, directly to the place where he knows it is. It’s easy to find, being practically in the middle of the room. It’s one of the first things he sees each morning as he walks inside every day to change clothes.

He picks it up and finds Steve right where he had left him.

Steve’s face goes through a million emotions as he spots Tony walking closer to him, his shield on his arm. 

Tony doesn’t speak as he stops in front of Steve, just extends his arm, offering Steve his shield back after more than two years. 

Steve spends more than 10 seconds looking intently at it, his eyes taking it in as if he had somehow forgotten its shape or it colors even though Tony knows that’s impossible for Steve.

Slowly, Steve reaches over and places his right hand right on the middle of the shield, over the star. 

He’s smiling when he says, “Not yet.”

He moves his eyes from the shield to Tony, locking their gazes. 

“I’m not ready yet.”

Tony just nods because he, better than anyone, understands. 

Steve’s hand drops from the shield and Tony turns to the left to deposit it gently on his bed. When he turns back to Steve he sees him swallow heavily and take a deep breath. 

“It’ll be there for when you are,” Tony says. “It’s yours.”

Steve smiles again and this time it’s a little less tainted with sorrow and a little more delicate in its happiness.

“And,” Tony continues. “I don’t know if I said it but… I’m here, too. I’m here if you want to talk.” 

Steve chuckles lightly, a puff of air leaving his nostrils. 

“So you’ve noticed I’ve kinda been… avoiding some things, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tony deadpans as he squints his eyes jokingly and shakes his head airily. 

“I just…,” Steve starts saying, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. “There’s so many things I want to say, so many things I want to talk about… With you. I want to talk about them with you but…”

Steve pauses and he moves his eyes again to Tony. 

“It’s nice knowing you’ll be there when I’m ready. I need a little more time, that’s all.”

“Time…” Tony murmurs. 

Time. Steve’s one true issue.  

“Time,” Tony says, decidedly this time. “I can give you that.”

 

_______________________________

 

It shouldn’t happen like it does, but the six month anniversary of the Decimation goes by completely unnoticed and unremembered at the Avengers Compound.

It comes and goes and not a single one of them take note of it. They move like it’s any other day, they talk like it’s any other day, they eat like it’s any other day.

It’s only when Natasha points it out during breakfast the next morning that they all become aware of it. 

Her voice is small when she says, “Oh, yesterday marked 6 months of…”

She hasn’t even finished the sentence when she walks out of the kitchen, her bottom lip trembling. 

Tony spends the entire day in bed after that, covers over his head, not even crying, just feeling empty. 

He calls Pepper at one point, at first just to hear her breathing, then needing to hear her voice. When she tells him she did remember the date and even organized a Stark Industries vigil on Malibu he hangs up on her. He feels guilty and then he doesn’t and then he does again. She doesn't call him back. He doesn’t call her either.

He thinks about calling Rhodey. He doesn’t. 

No one comes to his door, no one walks into his room, no one checks on him. Not even Steve.

Tony doesn’t blame him. 

He doesn't go to anyone’s door, he doesn’t walk into anyone’s room, he doesn't check on anyone. Not even Steve.

This is a battle -against guilt, against time, against ghosts and against themselves- that maybe they all need to fight on their own. 

 

_______________________________

 

Tony’s never been a good cook but he can at least say he’s a thousand times better than Natasha. 

When he was little his upbringing never had him worrying about food on his table, and although Tony has vague memories of entire days spent with Jarvis in a kitchen, he never really learnt anything about cooking, just interested in spending his time with the person that always regarded him the fondest. Jarvis’ cooking will always be Tony’s favorite and sometimes he thinks he would do anything to go back and share a meal with him one last time, maybe even learn something this time around.

When he went off to MIT his money meant he could afford eating out every day, whether at the cafeteria or any restaurant around campus he so pleased. It’s not even like he went out that much anyway, more into ordering pizza and any kind of take out, or demanding that Rhodey bring him snacks throughout the day, which Rhodey always did, albeit begrudgingly at times. 

Throughout his adulthood Tony can admit his eating habits haven’t been as healthy as they should have, much to JARVIS’ annoyance, back in the day. He’s subsisted on mostly precooked meals, sandwiches, ordering from New York’s greasiest restaurants and smoothies. 

But now, living with Natasha, Steve and Bruce at the Compound means participating in a lot more shared meals than he ever expected and it means being treated to a lot more home-cooked meals than he has had in decades. 

Not even when the full original team was living together at the Tower did they set to an schedule like this. 

The whole weight of the cooking falls on Steve and Bruce because Tony prefers to sit back and let them do the work and because the only time Natasha tried to help everything went so catastrophically bad and none of them exactly have any idea how. Since then she has only tried a handful more times and the results have been as unfortunate as the first try so she’s mostly given up and has taken to joining Tony on the watch team. 

Steve and Bruce have taken to work in different ways where cooking is now concerned: sometimes they both work together mostly silently, only giving each other directions and asking for things; other times they divide the work and one of them cooks lunch while the other gets tasked with the evening meal. Few times they decide preparing food is not worth the effort and the four of them convene in the kitchen to choose the delivery food for that occasion. 

Today, Steve has prepared dinner for all of them after they had not eaten lunch together, an anomaly in their routine that had surprisingly knocked Tony a bit askew. Natasha had been in meetings all day long, Steve had ventured into the city for a couple errands he had to run and Tony had taken the opportunity to have lunch with Pepper, her in Malibu in her office as she ate a salad from one of her favorite French restaurants and Tony in one of the conference rooms as he ate some leftovers from Bruce’s dinner from the night before. 

There’s a certain relaxing quality to sharing these times with Steve, Bruce and Natasha. 

Tony doesn’t feel the need to perform in front of any of them, he long ago left the feeling of needing to sell himself as stronger, or wittier, or harsher with them. He can just _be_ with them _,_ whether that means he can be silent, bubbly, introspective or nostalgic depending on the day. 

Today he is tired, and perhaps even a little frustrated. 

Objectively he didn’t do much, seeing as how Bruce had been off working on his own, researching and working on Hulk issues he’s been trying to perfect, and the rest of the residents of the Compound were off most of the day. 

But the time he spent with Pepper through video-conference was tense and awkward and Tony’s been having to work hard at repressing his feelings about the matter all day.

Things aren't working and the amount of effort it takes pretending he doesn't see that, and pretending he doesn’t see that Pepper sees it too, always leaves him feeling depleted by the end of all his interactions with her. And once they’re over, the sadness that grips him when he starts to glimpse the people they’re becoming together is even worse. 

His relationship with Pepper has always worked a little bit in fits and bursts. 

They have their times together, their very good times, until the bad times reach them and they are no longer able to hide from them.

Most of the good times happen when both of them are believing that the desire to fit together romantically can overpower anything else in the world. The great times happen when they’re both trying to prove that love, because they’ve got so much of it for each other, can truly conquer everything. The bad times then arise when they have to once again admit the truth of it all: love is not enough, or at least -and this is even more painful to recognize- their love isn’t. 

Love isn’t able to conquer the missteps, the incompatibilities, Pepper’s desire that he change into someone he isn’t, Tony’s desire to be able to change, Pepper’s guilt over needing him to change, Tony’s dismissal of her worries,… 

Their love, so big and at times so blinding, brings forth so many problems and challenges that maybe, in another world, would only make them stronger but in this one only serve to push them further apart.

It’s been six months since he came back to her when she thought all hope was lost. 

It’s been over a year since he proposed to her in what was one of their greatest periods of time together.

It’s now coming to that time when, once again, they both can see themselves heading towards the inevitable and yet neither of them are saying it yet. 

Because of these thoughts and the anguish they leave him with, Tony has not been participating into the conversations going on around him during this meal. If asked he wouldn't be able to name any of the topics Steve, Natasha and Bruce have been discussing for the past half hour at the table, but he knows his friends don’t fault him for it. They’re familiar with each other’s moods by now and they’re pros at giving each other the things they need, like space in his case now. 

Knowing he’s free to stay silent makes Tony feel at ease but it doesn’t bring back his appetite so he’s left pushing the food on his plate with his fork around as he thinks of how Pepper’s upcoming visit that they have recently scheduled will work. 

Between his worry and his nerves the thing that brings Tony into the fold is Steve’s voice sounding concerned and maybe even a little anxious. 

Glancing up from his plate Tony sees Steve’s face set into an expression of worry, his forehead and eyebrows fixed into a frown. Natasha is biting her bottom lip and her wide eyes are firmly set on Bruce, who in turn, is reclined back into his chair, his glass in hand, very obviously trying to portray an air of nonchalance that doesn't fit him well.

Tony has quite obviously missed something important. 

“What?” 

The others looked surprised at his less than eloquent intervention but Tony can feel this is not a conversation he should check out off, and although they don’t disappear, his worries about Pepper and what’s to come take a backseat to what is happening at the moment at this table. 

Bruce clears his throat and turns his head to look at Tony, smiling at him. 

“I was just saying that I’m going to visit Thor soon. Next week, in fact.” Bruce’s voice is shaking and Tony suddenly understands the mood that has settled over the table. 

“Bruce…” Natasha murmurs. “Are you sure? You know what Valkyrie’s been saying.”

What Valkyrie’s been saying, every time one of them calls her to check up on Thor, is, essentially, that Thor is in a state no one would have ever been able to imagine him in. 

His walking away from the Compound and joining his people in the little town in Norway they’ve started making as their own should have brought him a little peace. As it seems Thor has been doing worse than ever and by Valkyrie’s estimates he’s only getting worse. 

Hearing this about their friend has left Steve, Tony and Natasha wounded time and time again but it’s simply been hell on Bruce. Through bits and pieces Tony’s been mostly able to gather from Bruce most of the information about his time in space after Ultron and he thinks he can understand a little better the bond he and Thor came back with. 

That’s why he shares Natasha’s concern about Bruce’s plan. 

While they all want to see Thor get better they’re afraid Bruce going to see him will actually have the opposite effect on Bruce. A simple glance shared between Steve, Natasha and Tony confirms they’re all sharing the same idea. 

They’re not being really inconspicuous as Bruce catches their moment and sighs. 

“Look, guys,” he says. “I know maybe this won’t work, okay? I don’t even know what I should be trying to make work. Do I want him to come back? Do I want him to at least call us? I don’t know.”

He leans forward on his chair and leaves the glass he was holding on the table, using his now free hand to run it through his hair. 

“All I know is that I feel like I’ve left him alone when he needs me most. Valkyrie says he has completely isolated himself, only letting Korg in when he needs him to bring him things. We’re all going through this, but at least we’re going through this together.”

Bruce makes a pause and takes his time to look at all of them in the eye. 

“Being here together, that’s what’s saving us. You know I’m right.”

And they do, they all do. 

“So I need to try. I need to make him see that we’re still here for him.”

As soon as Bruce has finished talking Steve clears his throat.

“You’re right,” Steve confirms. “Thor still has a place with us and we need to try as best as we can to make him see that. I think he’d benefit from being back here with us, even if just for a while. But if things don’t work… Maybe it’s not such a good idea that you go alone.”

“I could come with you,” Tony offers when he sees Natasha struggling. 

He knows she wants to be able to accompany Bruce but her demands are too great here for her to leave them all behind, even if just for a few days.

“No, Tony. Pepper’s coming and I wouldn’t ask you to cancel on her,” Bruce says. “And Natasha, don’t you even try. You’re needed here.”

“Well, what about me?” Steve asks because he’s certainly the least busy of all of them.

The idea of Steve leaving, even knowing he’d be coming back, twists something inside of Tony that makes it harder to breathe.

“Guys,” Bruce sighs. “Seriously, thank you for offering. But I think it’ll be best if I just go alone.”

“Can you at least promise us that you’ll keep us updated as much as you can?” Natasha pleads. “And that if you need one of us to go there you will ask?”

Bruce smiles softly at her and he’s looking into her eyes when he says, “I promise.”

Natasha breaks their eye contact as she clears her throat, extends her arm to grab her glass of water and takes a sip from it.

“Well, if you need reasons to convince him to come tell him I need someone around that will appreciate my cooking,” she says. 

Steve, Tony and Bruce all groan. 

“Now he’ll never want to come back,” Tony says. 

 

_______________________________

 

Pepper arrives at Avengers Compound really late at night on a Saturday, almost at 5AM in the morning, an emergency meeting having postponed her leaving Malibu by almost three hours. 

Tony’s been feeling restless and unsettled the days previous to her scheduled arrival and it didn’t really help that Bruce left only two days ago to Norway to visit Thor. 

Steve, Natasha and Tony haven't talked about it since then but their conversations have had a tint of stillness and their silences are constantly shadowed by worry. They all feel both hopeful and hopeless and they can only guess what Bruce is going through, on his own, halfway across the world, trying all by himself to bring Thor, or at least a piece of him, back to them.

Feeling like it’s what he has to do -and too full of pent-up energy to go to sleep- Tony waits up for Pepper doing some idle work on his tablet. He’s got three different projects open on his device: one for Steve, one for Natasha and another one for Bruce. 

Since the Decimation happened, the Avengers -or what’s available and left of them- haven’t been needed to fight or protect the Earth, too damaged and affected to really be a beacon for any kind of show of strength or power, and whatever little troubles they’ve gone through have been easily handled by official authorities around the world or small-time superheroes that Tony trusts and has let be during this time. 

This doesn’t mean Tony has found himself able to lay to rest and not do something, anything, to prepare for what might come. He’s got folders with works half-finished for every one of the people he would consider part of the team now-a-days -and that includes both Thor and Clint and everyone who’s planets away but he knows would come if they ever called them- and he keeps redesigning his own devices and suits. This all on top of the work he keeps doing with Bruce constantly.

The fight never ends even when it seems like there isn’t a fight anymore.

As time passes Tony feels his eyes start to drop, his eyelids growing heavy, and at some point after 3:10 AM -the last time his eyes drift over to the clock and check the time- he must doze off because next thing he knows he wakes up slouched down on the living room couch as Pepper whispers his name and pushes a strand of hair away from his forehead.

They walk towards Tony’s room, close but not quite touching, and Tony lays down in bed as Pepper starts changing into her night clothes. 

They don’t say anything, the only audible sound their combined breaths, a little out of sync and a little too loud in the quietness of the room. 

Once Pepper is dressed she walks over to the bed and settles down on the right side of Tony. 

“FRIDAY, lights out.”

This is the first time Tony hears her voice in person after so long, but before he can look at her and catch a glimpse of her expression the lights turn off and they’re plunged into complete darkness. 

Tentatively, and almost shyly, Tony starts moving his right hand across the mattress, trying to find Pepper’s hand. At first he gently bumps against her shoulder but she must guess his intentions because she immediately reaches over with her hand to grab his. 

That’s how they fall asleep: holding hands, Tony laying on his back, Pepper laying on her stomach. 

There are no goodnight wishes, no sweet or lingering kiss. There’s just two people laying closer than they’ve physically been in months and yet so far away they might as well be in different planets altogether. 

 

_______________________________

 

It feels like fate is testing them. 

Or perhaps not fate. Maybe the universe? Destiny? Life? 

Definitely not God, because Tony stopped believing in things like that a long time ago and Thor is way too worried about other things to be creating these challenges that only serve to make Tony’s life more difficult. 

For every grand moment Tony and Pepper have together they get a heartbreaking one in return. 

Their days together start to become a perfect mirror of how their relationship has worked for years.

They have times when it’s them against the world and nothing could ever feel as good. 

It’s Pepper opening up about her stress with Stark Industries and Tony just listening to her, knowing all she needs in order to feel better is for him to be there as she vents. It’s Tony looking at her in wonder when she jokes around with him just as she’s always done, him wondering how he ever got lucky enough that she decided to give him her time. 

There’s other times when it feels like they’re climbing an endless mountain and all they’re doing is heading towards inevitable death. 

It’s Pepper catching him working on Avengers’ projects and becoming so silent it leaves him feeling uncomfortable even as she walks out of the room. It’s Pepper trying to ask him about Peter and Tony instantly wishing he had a Scotch glass in hand. 

They make love twice and Tony’s not sure how to explain that the first time felt like a farewell and the second time felt like coming back home. 

He’s not sure how to explain it because the feeling of that possible last goodbye when they slept together after so many months apart left him feeling warm inside, like for the first time in his life he was doing something right. The second time, as soon as it was over, had him shivering and adrift, like there was something wrong in their slow caresses and their deep kisses. 

Perhaps coming home to Pepper stopped meaning _forever_ a long time ago. Perhaps their goodbyes have always been more joyful. 

It’s both the shortest week of his life and the longest time ever. 

 

_______________________________

 

Pepper is set to leave really early in the morning, so early in fact some people would say she’s leaving late at night. 

She’s going to be flying directly to Japan for Stark Industries business and they both decided it wasn’t necessary for Tony to go there with her. He’s been working on some R&D designs for the company and he’s scheduled to have a meeting with some engineers next week in the City to start developing some of them but the business intricacies of SI are more and more lost on him these days. 

They’re having dinner with Steve and Natasha and there’s a certain feeling in the air like maybe things aren’t right but they soon will be. Like this is how things were always meant to happen. Like fate was really testing them all along and the final grade will soon be here. 

Tony hates the feeling. 

He hasn’t said much during the meal, Pepper and Natasha carrying most of the conversation while Steve intervenes here and there asking them questions. 

Tony hasn’t seen much of either of them this week and he’s both grateful and irritated that they gave Pepper and him some space to be on their own. The irritation comes from the idea that maybe if they had acted more as a buffer for them things wouldn’t have become so difficult between them. He knows it’s unfair and he also knows it’s not even true. 

This, whatever _this_ is, it’s all _Pepper and Tony_. Pure, unadulterated _Pepper and Tony_. 

It’s a relief and a shame all at once.

As they finish eating, Steve and Tony start clearing the table, leaving Natasha and Pepper with their wine glasses in hand, just talking. 

It takes them 3 trips to take everything back to the kitchen and they immediately start loading the dishwasher, a task that normally falls on Tony and Natasha seeing as how Steve and Bruce are the ones who do the cooking. 

Tony keeps passing plates and glasses and silverware to Steve who correctly puts everything in its place. 

They’re efficient and quick about it and only five minutes have gone by since they started the clean up. 

As Tony bends down to close the dishwasher door Steve clears his throat. Tony incorporates and closes it, pressing the button to turn it on and then looks at Steve. He’s standing in front of him, hands in his pockets, his expression concerned. 

“Everything okay?” Steve asks.

He doesn’t elaborate on what exactly he means by _everything_ but Tony knows.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Steve gives him a sad smile and moves his right arm to place in the place where Tony’s shoulder meets his neck. Steve squeezes gently and it makes Tony sigh. 

“I just…” Tony starts saying and then stops, not knowing how to voice everything it is he wants to say. 

“I don’t want to lose her,” he declares. 

It’s the most forward explanation. It’s also the simplest one. The truest, too.

“You don’t have to,” Steve says as he gives another slight squeeze to Tony’s muscles.

“Maybe I do,” Tony corrects. “Maybe I have to lose her in order to not lose her, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, his face so sad it actually makes Tony smile a little.

Tony’s _I’m sorry too_ goes unsaid but Tony knows Steve hears it all the same.

 

_______________________________

 

It’s 9:35PM when Natasha, Steve, Tony and Pepper all say their goodnights and goodbyes. 

Pepper hugs both Natasha and Steve, and Steve timidly whispers an “I hope to see you soon” as Pepper is pulling away from his embrace. She places a delicate hand on his cheek and simply answers, “Of course”. 

As he and Pepper start walking towards Tony’s room Natasha and Steve head towards the sliding doors in the living room and they step outside to take a walk around the property. As he turns around to close the door, Steve’s eyes catch Tony’s. It’s only for a second but it’s enough to give Tony the bout of strength he needs. 

Pepper and him reach the bedroom and he opens the door, letting her in and then closing it behind him.

Tony heads into the bathroom as Pepper picks up her cellphone from the nightstand and starts typing on it. 

When he’s done in the bathroom Tony walks back into the bedroom and sees that Pepper is still in the same spot he left her. 

He walks to the left side of the bed and reaches under his pillow to retrieve his pajamas. He changes into them as Pepper leaves the phone back where it had first been and walks into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar as she starts brushing her teeth. 

When he’s done changing Tony gets under the covers, laying on his back, his head already resting on his pillow. His eyes focus on the white ceiling above him and his ears pick up the different sounds coming from the bathroom, water running, Pepper’s bare feet on the tiled floor, the toilet flushing. 

Pepper soon exits the bathroom and Tony moves his eyes away from the ceiling to look at her as she starts changing into her night clothes. 

They don’t say anything, the only audible sound is their breathes, almost perfectly in-sync.

Pepper walks over to the empty side of the bed when she’s done changing and she starts laying down in bed. Instead of positioning herself next to Tony Pepper continues moving until she can lay with her body pressed to his side and she can rest her head on his chest, her ear to where the reactor would have been once upon a time. 

Tony moves his right arm to wrap it around her shoulders and Pepper uses one of her legs to move it over his. 

This is closer than they’ve been in months, even closer than the two times they have had sex this week, Tony thinks. It may not be objectively accurate but maybe it feels that way because this is definitely the closest they’ve been emotionally. 

It’s not even ten at night yet so Tony knows it’s futile to really try to fall asleep but he closes his eyes as Pepper gently whispers, “FRIDAY, lights out”.

The rise and fall of his chest must tell Pepper he’s still awake because after half an hour of silence Pepper whispers his name in the dark.

Tony opens his eyes and looks down. Even though there’s no light in the room Tony can tell he would only be able to see the crown of her head and her blonde hair if the lights were on. 

Instead of verbally replaying Tony hums to let Pepper know he’s heard her. 

“Tony,” Pepper pronounces again. “Can I ask you something?”

And just like that he knows. 

“Yeah,” he whispers after maybe ten seconds of silence, not because he was really pondering the question but because he needed a little time to prepare himself for what’s coming. 

“If I asked you to move to Malibu with me, even if I know how unfair that would be, would you do it?”

That is not the question Tony was expecting but he thinks it maybe makes sense that this is how Pepper wants to start the conversation. 

He also doesn’t need to think much about his answer to this question. 

“Yes,” he says decidedly. 

Tony can feel Pepper holding her breath where her body is still closely pressed into his.

“But I don’t think I would last much time there.”

Pepper releases all the air she was holding in her lungs and the vibrations of her body are what give away the little laugh she lets out. 

“I don’t think you would, no,” she agrees. 

Pepper starts moving, pulling away from him enough so that she can rest her head next to his on the pillow and look him in the eye but not enough so that they have to untangle their legs. 

“Remember what you said to me before space?” she asks. “About that dream you had, the baby with my uncle’s name?”

_Morgan._

Tony nods and swallows.

“You’d make a great dad, Tony,” Pepper declares.

Tony’s eyes fill with tears. 

“You’d make a great dad and I’d make a great mom, I think,” Pepper says. “We just haven’t made a great couple in a while, huh?”

“I love you,” is all that Tony can think to say. 

Because through everything they’ve been through that’s the one constant that hasn’t changed. No matter where they end up, no matter how they end, that’s the one constant that will keep. 

“I know,” Pepper confirms. “I love you, too.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Tony pleads.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” Pepper says. 

“Let’s not lose each other, okay?” Tony proposes and this makes Pepper laugh even as she sniffs and her eyes look unmistakably watery now that Tony’s own eyes have adjusted to the dark.

“Okay,” she accepts. “We won’t.”

They fall asleep still tangled, Pepper’s head back to resting on Tony’s chest, their hands intertwined and their hearts both a little lighter and a little heavier. 

When Tony wakes up in the morning, FRIDAY gradually letting in more sunlight from the outside through the windows, Pepper has already left and the engagement ring she had been wearing on her finger for over a year has been placed on the nightstand on her side of the bed. 

No matter how many times Tony goes through the conversation in his mind he still can’t quite grasp how so little was said and yet so much was understood. They never really said the words and they never really talked about it but Tony doesn’t feel like they could have or should have done more. 

It’s the way they’ve been for a while, _Tony and Pepper_ , now just Tony and Pepper.

If Tony thinks about it he can’t remember them even having the conversation they were supposed to have when he came back from space, about her anger and her fears and his actions and his consequences. 

It’s the way they’ve been for a while and it’s the reason they haven’t worked. 

It’s maybe the reason they used to work, before they grew away from each other instead of growing into each other. 

This time, Tony knows, this time is the one. 

This time they made the right decision. 

He still can’t help softly crying himself back to sleep as he thinks of everything they could have been if they both had been different people.

 

_______________________________ 

 

It’s Natasha that comes to Tony’s workshop to announce Bruce’s arrival only two days after Pepper leaves. 

He’s immersed in reading a couple Stark Industries’ projects when he hears a succession of soft knocks on the glass doors of his workshop. 

In the past 48 hours Tony has been working hard at catching up with Stark Industries’ affairs that he had previously been a bit disconnected from, both from the engineering and developmental side of it and the trading and business aspects as well. He’s realized that now that the break up has happened things will most likely feel constrained between him and Pepper for a while, and it will serve them well if they have some safe topics of conversation that will aid them in re-building their relationship now that there’s not actually a relationship anymore.

They were friends before, good friends, and Tony wants to do everything in his power to bring that back and gift Pepper -and himself- that small miracle.

As Tony turns around he sees Natasha through the glass doors wearing her usual all black ensemble. One of her hands is pressed to the glass and the other is ready to knock again on the door, but when she sees Tony looking at her she brings her arm down. 

“Let her in, FRIDAY,” Tony commands. 

“Bruce’s back,” she says as soon as FRIDAY gives the go ahead and opens the door for her. 

Tony stands swiftly, leaving his projects behind and following Natasha as she cuts a path towards Bruce’s room. 

Bruce must have really just made it back, probably not even five minutes having passed since his walking into the Compound, because when they reach the room Bruce is unzipping the duffel bag he took with him to Norway. 

Natasha’s always light and silent on her feet but Tony must have been making sounds as he walked because Bruce notices their approach immediately as they make it to his door.

“Hey, Nat. Hey, Tony.”

There’s something in Bruce’s face that gives away that he feels both more light-hearted and more preoccupied that when he left. 

“How are you?” Natasha asks, her voice small. “How’s Thor?”

Before Bruce can respond to the question Steve appears on the doorway previously occupied by Natasha and Tony. 

“FRIDAY told me you were back,” Steve tells Bruce. “Everything okay?”

Bruce sighs and he takes off the glasses he’s wearing to clean them with the hem of his cotton t-shirt. At the same time he bends his knees and sits on the edge of his bed, leaving Tony, Natasha and Steve to position themselves standing in a semi-circle around him. 

Bruce puts his glasses back on and looks up at them. 

“He’s not doing well,” Bruce announces and although they knew about it having the confirmation from Bruce feels like a dagger to the chest. 

“He’s drinking. A lot,” Bruce elaborates. “I got him to let me into the place he’s been living in so I could stay with him but… He must have said five words total in the time I was there. I could tell he was angry I was visiting but he just… He didn’t say anything. He hasn’t been showering, he hasn’t been outside in weeks. He just drinks and eats and sleeps.”

“He’s depressed,” Steve sympathizes.

“If he’s not talking to me or Valkyrie I doubt he’d agree to see someone, a psychologist, I don’t know,” Bruce guesses.

“Do you think it would do him well if he was here with us?” Natasha enquires.

Bruce shrugs. “I don’t think it would harm him more. I think it’d be worth a try.”

“Did you tell him? That we want him to come here?” Natasha asks.

“Yes,” Bruce confirms as he nods his head. “I don’t know if he’ll come but… He knows.”

Tony looks around the room at his friends -at his family- and he feels their grief and their regret mixing with his as strongly as if it was all just his. 

Bruce sighs again and he rests his elbows on his knees, letting his face fall onto his hands. He’s not crying, but that might make it worse. There must be a thousand emotions Bruce is trying to keep contained and it kills Tony to know that that’s all Bruce’s been doing for years and years. His anger, his hurt, his confusion; these are all things Bruce’s become a master at hiding. Tony doesn’t want any of them to have to disguise themselves any longer and he doesn’t want any of them to have to go through things alone anymore. 

Tony moves so he can sit to Bruce’s right and he puts his arm around Bruce’s shoulders slowly, not wanting to startle him.

Bruce raises his head and looks at Tony, his lips turned downwards and his eyes looking defeated. 

“Hey, listen to me,” Tony says, making sure to look directly into Bruce’s eyes. “We’ll bring him back, okay? If what he needs is to be here with us we will make that happen. We won’t leave him behind.”

Tony turns his head to the right to look between Steve and Natasha and he’s not surprised to find their faces looking determined. 

This is something they can do, something they can fix and make better. 

Thor’s always been one of them, no matter what their situations might have been like over the years and it’s about time the Avengers start taking proper care of their own. 

They might not be ready yet to save the world again but they can save each other. 

 

_______________________________ 

 

 It takes Tony three more days to tell Steve, Natasha and Bruce about the break up. 

They’re three very busy days, Tony still trying to catch up on Stark Industries’ business while at the same time working with Steve, Natasha and Bruce on a plan to bring Thor back to New York. They’ve contacted Valkyrie and she readily agreed with them on it being best for Thor to be back with them. 

“There’s just so much to do around here,” Valkyrie explains, referring to the establishment of New Asgard. “We don’t have time to take care of him. And he’s not much help either so… I think he’d be better off with you.”

They’re three very busy days but the hectic nature of them is not actually what keeps Tony from telling his friends. He knows that Natasha and Steve suspect something, but the moment he finally says it out-loud, the moment it’s not just something they can guess but something he confirms, that is the moment everything becomes completely real.

He’s under no delusions of this being a reversible thing and it’s not even like it’s something he’s hoping for. This is permanent and this is what he wants, truly, but this being permanent means this is what he’ll have to learn to live with. Pepper and their relationship was the one thing he had been able to hold on to after the snap and now even that is gone. 

He knows, objectively, that there have been other things he’s kept after the snap, Rhodey being the crucial. He even knows there are things he’s gained after the Decimation -Steve and their friendship in a way it didn’t exist before, and the same thing with Bruce and Natasha. 

But in some ways it feels like if Tony finally accepts the finality of his relationship with Pepper he will be accepting the finality of the snap. Like maybe, if he accepts that they’re over that means he’s accepting his new life where so many other people are gone too. 

It’s not true and Tony absolutely knows that but something in him still feels afraid about it, something in him is still postponing the moment of truth. 

It becomes unavoidable during dinner when Natasha is telling them of the contracts Stark Industries signed with one of her charities to provide them with free hospital machinery for one of their locations in Europe. 

It’s such a small comment, such a flyway mention, but everyone at the table notices Tony’s flinch when Natasha pronounces Pepper’s name.

She immediately stops talking, her sentence unfinished. 

“Tony…” she murmurs. 

He looks at her and smiles sadly as their eyes lock. 

“You can keep talking about her,” Tony apologizes. “It’s just…”

He only needs to look at the three people in front of him once to know that they’re all aware already of what he’s going to so. It’s written plainly in their expressions, in the way Bruce’s smile is sorrowful, in the way Natasha is biting her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. It’s quite obvious in the way Steve’s face looks soft, almost sweet. He’s not radiating pity, or sadness back at Tony and that’s probably what gives him strength. 

Steve is looking at him in the same way he looked at him before Pepper and him broke up -fondly and directly, the force of his gaze hitting Tony in the center of his chest- and perhaps that’s what finally prompts him to take the plunge. 

“We broke up,” Tony confirms. 

There’s no sound from the other three people and no movement either, so Tony continues. 

“It had been coming for a while and it was a mutual thing. It’s sad but we’re both glad we did it. _I’m_ glad.”

“Maybe…” Bruce starts. “Maybe you’ll get back together?”

His voice doesn’t sound convinced and he doesn't sound convincing either. He’s most likely just trying to support Tony, thinking he’s still holding on to the idea of Pepper and their future. 

“No,” Tony admits. “This is it. This one is going to stick. It’s definitely for the best.”

“Well,” Steve says. “We’re here for you, Tony. And if this is the best for you that’s all we want.”

And Tony doesn’t doubt it for a second, that these three people truly just want whatever it is that will make him the happiest and that they will support him through it all. 

“Thanks,” he says, because there are no other, actual words to express his awe and gratitude to have them here with him. 

The conversation goes on after that, Natasha resuming the explanation she was given, and Tony thinks that while adjusting to his new reality is taking time, it’s a relief he gets to share it with these people. 

 

_______________________________ 

 

Steve seeks Tony out as Natasha and him are clearing the table after dinner is done. 

By now they’ve learnt how to perform the dance around each other perfectly and it takes them only a couple minutes to pick up the cutlery and dishes, put them in the dishwasher, store any leftovers there have been on the fridge and clean the table. They’re doing it in a comfortable silence today and Natasha grazes Tony’s elbow lightly when they finish.

Tony smiles at her and sees how she looks over his shoulder toward the kitchen entrance. Tony turns around to find Steve there, when he had previously walked away from the kitchen when they’d finished eating.

Tony had assumed he’d went into his room but Steve is standing with an armload of clothes. It appears like he went searching for one of Tony’s winter coats and also for one of his own, as well as a burgundy sweater that Tony doesn’t recognize so it also must be Steve’s.

Steve shakes his arms a little to bring attention to the clothes he’s carrying.

“Want to go take a walk?” he asks and although he’s looking in the direction of both him and Natasha Tony knows the question is solely aimed at him. 

He nods and turns back towards Natasha. She smiles at him and leans in to give him a short peck in the cheek. 

She starts walking to leave the room and when she’s next to Steve she stands on her tiptoes as he leans down a little so she can also give him a kiss. 

“Good night, boys,” she says, and disappears from their view only a few seconds later. 

Steve extends his arms, offering the clothes to Tony.

“Take the sweatshirt and your coat,” he instructs. “It’s cold out.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate before doing so, knowing that his body has been particularly sensitive to extreme temperatures since his trip in space. 

He takes the sweatshirt first and pulls it over his head. His nose catches the familiar scent in a second -a little earthy and a little deep- and it confirms Tony’s suspicions about the sweatshirts’s ownership. If that wasn’t enough, the fact that the item of clothing hangs from Tony’s body and the sleeves go way past his hands is also more than enough hint. 

Tony bunches up the sleeves and pushes them up his forearms before he realizes he’ll have to wear the coat too and pushes them down again. 

Before Tony can move to take his bulky coat from Steve’s arms and put it on, Steve drops his own coat on a nearby chair and holds Tony’s coat from the shoulders, extending it so Tony will just have to put his arms into the holes.

Tony takes a step forward at the same time that Steve does, and he turns around so his back is to Steve. He moves his right arm first and puts it through the sleeve as Steve moves the coat so the shoulder of it settles on Tony’s own shoulder. Immediately after they repeat the action for Tony’s left arm and this time Tony has to hold onto the sweatshirt’s cuff so it won’t raise awkwardly through his arm and stay wrinkled under his coat. 

As soon as he’s got both arms into the garment Tony grips the coat’s lapels and tugs so that it covers his chest and his neck properly, and then zips it up all the way to the top. 

During this brief period of time Steve has started putting his own coat on and Tony turns around just in time to see him finishing zipping it up. 

“Ready?” Steve asks him and Tony starts walking towards the living room doors that lead to the outside as a response. 

Tony’s instantly grateful as he opens the doors that Steve went to get them some heavy clothes because the night is cold and dewy, winter already making itself known in New York, greeting them with an icy breeze as soon as they step outside. 

Steve’s the last one to exit the building so he’s the one closing the door behind him. He then turns back to Tony and looks on as Tony blows into his hands, trying to warm them up with his breath.

“Too cold? We can go back inside,” Steve proposes. 

Tony shakes his head.

“No, let’s go.”

This is something Steve and Tony have taken to doing in their months of cohabitation at Avengers Compound. Sometimes in the morning, at times in the early afternoon and sometimes at night just like in this moment they make their way around the extensive area of the Compound at a steady but leisure pace. 

The area made up of woods and fields and the man-made lake Tony included into the design has seen more than its fair share of cathartic and revealing conversations between Steve and Tony. 

Here Tony has spoken about Peter more than he’s done so anywhere else, here Steve has told Tony stories about his mother and his sickly youth, and although he hasn’t yet opened up about recent events -losing Sam and Bucky, his thoughts on a possible reversal of the snap and other such topics- Tony feels like they’ve made some leeway during their heart-to-hearts. Steve is now more prone to share anecdotes from his time away from the States after the Accords and every time he shares something with Tony it feels more impactful and closer to being what he really needs to be talking about. 

Not everything they talk about during their walks is revealing or significant, it’s not even always serious. They’ve had more than one conversation about Steve’s loves for YA novels, Steve narrating the entire plot of them back to Tony. They’ve laughed way too many times at stupid jokes and puns by the lake. Other times they’ve reminisced together about some of the happy memories they share, reminding themselves that their acquaintanceship and friendship hasn’t constantly been marked by jabs and blows. 

A few times, no words have even been needed as they’ve just shared the time with each other. It’s helped them clear their heads and it’s served as a comfort and a distraction for both. 

Today, as they start walking in a direction now awfully familiar for both, Tony knows what Steve wants to talk about. 

Only ten minutes ago Tony would have thought he’d be opposed to discussing the break up and his feelings regarding it but the idea of relying on Steve and opening up now feels liberating and appealing. 

In fact, Tony thinks, if Steve won’t bring up the topic Tony will be the one starting the conversation. 

But because they’re now experts at reading each other, Tony was right in thinking Steve would want him to talk about it. 

“Tony,” he starts, his voice low, not needing to sound louder in order to be heard in the silence of nature. “How are you feeling?”

“You mean about the break up, right?” Tony enquires, wanting to make sure that’s what Steve really is asking. 

Steve rolls his eyes fondly and looks at him, his face set in a deadpan expression. 

“Yes, I mean about the break up,” Steve assures. 

“It’s…” Tony tries to explain. “It’s weird. I feel sad, which I expected and I know is normal. But I also feel…I don’t want to say happy because that’s not true but…”

“Relieved?” Steve ventures. 

“Maybe,” Tony answers. “But not exactly. It’s more like I feel rested.”

Their steps are taking them through the trees and across a clearing that Tony knows looks radiant during the spring. He came up here often the months after Siberia, when Pepper and him were still on the outs and he was working non-stop on permanent and successful solutions to Rhodey’s paralysis. 

“This has been building up for months,” Tony clarifies. “It hasn’t been like other times when the fights have gotten to be too much and we break up because we’re both fuming and desperate to not see each other. This time it was… Exhausting. We were speaking but we weren’t actually talking. We were engaged but we weren't actually planning the wedding. We were in this weird limbo. To be or not to be, that’s the question.”

Steve releases a huff of air that is not really a chuckle but denotes certain amusement at the reference. 

“She’s always needed me to be someone else. Or well, not that. But she’s definitely needed me to change certain aspects of myself. She wanted me to be more reliable and less reckless. She needed to know I would be content with stepping aside and prioritizing us over… Well, the world. And I couldn’t do that even though she deserved it. Just like she couldn't become less strict or demanding just because I needed her to.”

Tony stops walking, his quickening speech having left him slightly out of breath. Steve halts immediately beside him. 

“I don’t know what the future is going to be like.”

He doesn’t have to mention his constant over-thinking and worrying of reversing the effects of the Decimation for Steve to know he’s thinking about it. 

“But I do know that if Pepper and I have to end up with someone, it can’t be with each other. We love each other, I don’t know if it’s in the same _in love_ way as in the beginning but we do. But just because I love her doesn’t mean I want to keep being with her. And just because she loves me doesn't mean she deserves to settle. That’s what makes me sad.”

He turns his face up towards the Moon as he feels tears gather into his eyes. 

“Love didn’t save us but loving each other is what kept us from burning to the ground in the end. So maybe, in a way, love did save us. Just not in the way I once hoped it would.”

He feels more composed when he turns back to look at Steve and this time he finds him being the one looking up at the Moon. 

“That’s why I feel rested, I think. I finally stopped fighting it. I told you I didn’t want to lose her and I needed to admit that not being together isn’t losing her. Losing her would have meant staying together and becoming only echoes of ourselves.”

Tony hadn’t noticed before but there’s very few sounds around them compared to what they’re normally able to hear on their roams. Only an owl is hooting in the distance and the breeze creates a certain melody from the tussle of the leaves in the trees but the rest of the animals that could be heard when the weather was warmer and more inviting have gone silent, most likely having left the premises by now.

Steve stays silent and this gives Tony the opportunity to go back through his own words and analyze them better. 

“Wow, okay, I didn’t mean to make all that sound so poetic.”

This time Steve’s laugh is complete, not just a breathe of air, but a full, booming sound. 

“Yeah, you’re a regular Neruda,” he teases. 

Steve moves his gaze away from the sky and locks his eyes with Tony’s.

“Can I say something about this?” Steve says, asking for permission.

Tony frowns, confused. 

“Of course,” he assures. 

He thought that they had moved past the hesitancy and the doubts and that Steve knew now that there’s no one whose opinion or ideas Tony values more. They’ve come a long way from the days where giving each other a piece of their mind meant clashing. 

“I just didn’t want to be butting in on something that was none of my concern,” Steve admits a little sheepishly. “But… I’m proud of you, Tony.” 

“You’re proud of me?” 

“I think it’s brave to admit that something isn’t working and it’s definitely brave to make a change about it,” Steve explains. “You’re not gonna lose Pepper, I know you won’t. You guys are too important to the other to let that happen. But you’re right, you both deserve better than this halfway thing you were stuck in.”

Tony didn’t feel like he need confirmation from anyone but it’s nevertheless nice to know he’s not just created a convenient narrative in his head to make himself feel better about his choices and their consequences. 

“And I might be a little biased here,” Steve goes on. “But I think you deserve complete happiness, Tony. Whether that comes from being with someone who completely suits you and understands you or from never stepping out of the Iron Man suit. You deserve to be happy, Tony.”

Happy. 

What a foreign word. 

What an strangely comforting dream to hold on to.

“I think,” Tony says. “I’m starting to believe that too.”

And it speaks about his situation and his relationship with Steve that that is nothing but the complete truth. 

 


	4. chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long it took me to post this chapter. 
> 
> I had to write my StonyLovesSteve story ([which is up and you can all read if you want to](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293013)) and then I went on vacation. I promise chapter five won't take me this long to post. It'll be here in a couple of weeks or so.
> 
> As you can see the number of chapters for this fic has gone up once again and I now think this story will have a minimum of 10 chapters. Notice how I said minimum? Yeah, I'm still not sure that's the final count. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the new chapter. I would love to know your thoughts on it!

As time goes by and the Thor situation gets no closer to being resolved, Bruce, and in turn Natasha, start growing restless and a little snappish.

The situation is also trying for Steve and Tony, but in a different way. Part of their deep feelings about the issue stem from their role as natural co-leaders of the Avengers. They feel responsible for their people and for their well-being and that can become exhausting, but that also means they feel a near constant need to keep clear-headed and focused.

It’s true that Natasha did act as Steve’s right hand during the brief time Tony retired from the field, but it’s also true that he never really completely stopped his involvement with the Avengers and their activities.

He kept in touch with all of them one way or another and Steve still, at times, consulted him in certain aspects of their roles, even if in the end he mostly went with his own pre-set decisions instead of taking many of Tony’s indications into consideration. 

Natasha was Steve’s rock but not really his co-leader in the way Tony had been. Natasha had been a way more emotional support for Steve that Tony had ever been back then but she hadn’t stepped up to be a managing entity of the Avengers until the Accords needed her to be.

Even though the Avengers no longer exist -at least not in the superhero team way they used to- there is no doubt Natasha is nowadays their leader. She’s the face of most of the work they do in the post-Decimation world and she’s the most active one in every single aspect: combat -for the few small-time criminals she gets called to deal with-, strategy and cooperation -with governments, associations, non-profits and even alien alliances-.

But Thor was one of the six original Avengers and that means that, where he’s concerned, Steve and Tony still feel like the co-leaders of the team he was part of, they feel like they’re still in a way in charge of him, while Bruce and Natasha are able to see themselves more as his teammates of the same rank.

That translates into Tony and Steve constantly strategizing how to resolve their problem, how to get Thor back home, while Bruce and Natasha are a little more free to get a little irrational about it, a little too deep into their emotions of the issue.

Bruce has taken refuge in his research of his connection with Hulk and is working harder than ever into trying to find the answer to why Hulk has seemed to go into hiding from him and he’s also searching for the perfect and permanent solution for them both -Banner and Hulk- maybe for the first time ever thinking about the both of them. All of this - the work, the researching, the experimenting- mean he’s -perhaps unconsciously- distanced himself from the rest of them for the last couple of weeks.

Natasha, on her part, hasn’t shown that many signs of change, not exactly because she’s hiding them but because they’re a lot smaller and subtler than Bruce’s or anyone else’s. But she’s not the same person she used to be -and neither is Tony- and that means he has been able to catch a few glimpses of her frustration and her worry about Bruce’s isolation and their almost non-existent progress.

It has been difficult to tell, however, if the slight increase of hours of work she’s been doing has been due to Natasha burying herself in it to ignore other things or if it’s been a genuine spike of activity that has needed her added attention. This means it’s also difficult to tell if Natasha’s own isolation has been willing or unwilling.

 This development though, the one that happens as Natasha visits his workshop this time, Tony is one hundred percent certain has happened because of the Thor situation and he knows it must haven been eating away at Natasha for a while.

Barton’s disappearance and subsequent return as a rogue vigilante had shocked all of them but it had, of course, hit Natasha the most as they had put the pieces of his work together and come to the conclusion it had to be him.

 Ronin, is what they’re calling him.

 Natasha had started searching for him two months after the Decimation when he stopped even taking her calls, even if their conversations before had roughly consisted of Natasha knowing he was still alive based on his respiration on the other end of the line.

Rhodey had been the one to finally find him the first time and he’d been able to solidly connect him to the spike of druglords and other criminals’ deaths, in the end.

But then, Barton had once again disappeared.

As opposed to the Thor problem, where they at least knew where he was at all times and they had someone to keep them updated as best as they could be, the problem with dealing with Clint was his constant dropping out of the face of the planet, leaving no trace to be followed. It left them adrift most of the time, incapable of forming a plan between themselves to deal with Clint when it seemed like Clint didn't want to be dealt with. 

“You forget he used to be a spy just like me,” had been Natasha’s answer during on of their first meetings regarding the issue. 

So at first, based on the difficulty in locating Clint and the thought that his actions might had been a one-off, they’d mostly let things be, thinking he would seek them out when he felt ready again. 

But the more things escalated, the more their worries grew. 

At the same time Bruce had brought forth his deep worries about Thor and the idea to try and connect with him again to bring him to the Compound and so, even if they were concerned about Ronin, they had had to put that aside and they started developing their plan to bring Thor back to them.

That must have been terribly difficult for Natasha. That might have even been the last straw for her capacity to ignore the situation.

That must have been what drew her to come to Tony’s workshop this morning.

It’s a Saturday and Tony’s not alone.

Rhodey arrived yesterday afternoon to spend the weekend in the Compound and, as he promised, he’s not there for work. He’s there to simply be with Tony, to share time together like that haven’t been able to do in a long time.

It’s been two weeks since the break up with Pepper and every day it gets easier for Tony, it really does, but Rhodey had expressed his need to check for himself, too used to Tony telling him he was fine when in fact he wasn’t.

When Natasha knocks on the workshop doors this time it sounds almost hesitant, like she's just gracing her knuckles against the glass softly, almost like a caress.

She’s not interrupting anything, really, as Tony and Rhodey are not going any real work that is time-sensitive or crucial.

It’s Rhodey who looks up first and tells Tony, “It’s Nat.”

“Open up, FRIDAY,” Tony demands and his AI readily complies.

The doors open and Natasha walks inside promptly, giving them both a sweet smile. Her steps are silent and graceful as they always are but for a second Tony swears she almost hesitates on her fourth step, like she’s maybe regretting having came in. The idea leaves his head instantly as she keeps walking confidently inside towards them.

“Hey, boys.”

Rhodey stands from his position at the workshop table where Tony and him had just been playing around with a couple personal and idle projects. He walks over to Natasha and opens his arms to pull her into a hug.

“Hi, Nat,” Rhodey greets. “How’s it going?”

They pull away from the embrace as Natasha scrunches her nose a little and tilts her head to the side, her face showing a bitter expression.

“Same old, same old,” she replies.

Rhodey purses his lips and then curls the left corner of his lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Tony stands in that moment, feeling a little too far away from his friends and the conversation, and walks the few steps it takes him to reach Natasha and Rhodey.

“Everything okay?” he asks Natasha as he’s reaching them.

When he’s standing right next to the pair he brings a hand to Natasha’s elbow and cups it lightly, gently squeezing it through her long-sleeved black shirt.

Natasha clears her throat and the slight trace of the smile that was on her face before disappears.

“I’m actually here to ask you boys for a favor,” she announces.

Her voice sounds almost flat, devoid of any emotion, like it’s trying very hard to give nothing away and that’s what ends up giving her away the most.

It’s been quite a long time since Natasha’s felt the need to disguise herself or hide anything at the Avengers Compound and the fact that she’s trying to do some semblance of it again raises alarms in Tony’s mind immediately.

Tony turns his head to look at Rhodey and finds him already watching him. Their gazes lock and Rhodey lifts his left eyebrow, a question clearly written in his features but also a go ahead for Tony to lead the situation.

Tony breaks away from Rhodey’s gaze and turns back to look at Natasha.

Their relationship nowadays could call for a thousand and one favors that Tony would grant easily and gladly but there’s something in Natasha’s demeanor and the way she came to them almost ceremoniously that speaks to the magnitude of what she’s going to ask of them.

Tony makes a gesture with the hand that’s not touching Natasha, a go ahead kind of sign.

Natasha takes a step back and dislodges Tony’s hand from her arm. Tony doesn’t think anything of it and he definitely doesn’t take offense, knowing Natasha is prone to needing her space and that when she feels uncomfortable she needs to feel in total control of her body and herself.

“It’s about Clint,” she pronounces.

Tony immediately understands and a short look in Rhodey’s direction tells Tony he does too.

Tony supposes he always knew Natasha would end up coming to him about it and it makes sense she’s doing it when Rhodey is here considering he’s the one most constantly working on the Ronin case, even if he’s doing it on behalf of his military work and not on a personal basis.

“Nat,” Rhodey says, softly. “You know what the situation’s been like.”

Natasha nods her confirmation. “I know what the four incidents these past months have been like, yes.”

“Some people aren’t calling them incidents, they’re calling them massacres,” Rhodey reminds her.

Natasha’s bottom lip starts to tremble and she has to bite it to stop it doing so. Her eyes look glossy under the shop’s LED lights but Natasha closes them before any tears can escape from them. When she releases her lip Tony can see that it shows the slight indent of her teeth from how hard she was biting it. She opens her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I know, Rhodey, believe me, I know,” she says.

Tony takes a step to put himself in front of Natasha instead of standing slightly to her side. This also serves to put his body between her and Rhodey.

He doesn’t do this because he believes he needs to protect one from the other in the slightest but because he understands the difficulty and complexity of the situation. Natasha and Rhodey are friends and because of this Rhodey feels for her and empathizes with her hurt, but he’s been to the places Ronin’s been in and, no matter what, he’ll always be a military man through and through.

“Nat,” Tony says, pulling Natasha’s attention towards himself. “What is the favor? What do you want us to do?”

“I want us to get him home,” Natasha says. “Like we want to do with Thor.”

“Natasha—“ Rhodey starts but Tony interrupts him.

He knows what Rhodey wants to say, the issues he will remind them of: the fact that the military and the authorities will most likely call for a trial, the mental state Clint’s in, the complications they’ve already encountered while trying to locate him because it’s not like they haven’t been trying. But Tony knows that’s not what Natasha needs to hear and he knows Natasha’s already more than aware about all those things.

“Are you sure?” Tony asks her, because it’s really the only question he can ask.

Natasha nods. “I know we’ve been trying to locate him and we’ve succeeded before only to lose him again, but we haven’t actually been trying hard and you know it, Tony.”

He’s about to correct her but she holds up one of her hands.

“C’mon Tony, you know it. We never knew what we’d do if we found him so we didn’t do everything in our power to do so.”

Tony closes his mouth and doesn’t say a word but he knows he’s admitting it by not saying anything at all.

“Now I want the opportunity to talk to him and bring him back. If Thor belongs here so he can get better so does Clint. I can help him. We’ll be able to help him.”

Clint’s and Thor’s situations are nothing alike and yet Clint’s and Thor’s situations are everything alike.

“I know there’ll be things we need to do if we bring him back and I promise we’ll deal with that, Rhodey. I’ll work with whoever I need to work with,” Natasha assures.

“We need to talk to Steve and Bruce,” Tony establishes. “Who we are now, this team… No more secrets. And no more not working together.”

They haven’s actually made that promise out loud but it’s been implicit in their home for a while now.

Natasha’s eyes sparkle as she nods at Tony’s words, knowing there’s going to be little resistance from Steve and Bruce if this is what she’s really committed to do.

Rhodey sighs behind Tony and Tony takes a step towards the right of Natasha again so he can stop giving his back to Rhodey and instead can look him in the eye.

“I’ll help too if you give me the go ahead then,” Rhodey accepts. “I’ll act as the middle man like always.”

“Rhodey,” Natasha says, almost chocked up. “Thank you.”

 “Same old, same old,” Rhodey responds. His voice then grows softer. “You’re welcome, Nat.”

 

_______________________________

 

Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and any and every kind of special occasion hasn't been the same since the Decimation happened. It’s tragic and understandable. It’s also very unfair. 

Tony has never been a person that has given much thought to any of these but for most of the world these days used to mean something good and worthy of celebration and now they've been tainted and made mostly unenjoyable.

It happened at the Compound when Steve’s birthday came around and he, very gently but also extremely firmly, asked them to not say anything about it. The world had seemed to agree with him when a normally very festive 4th of July became a subdued event all over the country. There were certainly events trying to install hope and joy in people but they were small definitely very nostalgic. There were no fireworks that Tony saw the whole day and he was grateful for that. 

 It occurred again a couple months later for Natasha’s birthday during the fall when Natasha had spent the whole day out of the Compound, only arriving as Steve, Tony and Bruce had been finishing dinner. Her face had very clearly begged them not to say anything about it so they hadn’t and the day had been left unacknowledged. 

Tony’s sure that if his birthday had passed during a time where he could have been conscious enough to be aware of it he would have asked the same thing but luckily -as weird as it may be to say- he spent May 29th mostly sleeping the exhaustion and the damage of his trip to space away.

Pepper had been with him that day, standing by his bedside, but she had only murmured a soft _happy birthday_ once as she had kissed his forehead and let him go back to sleep. His 48th birthday had been as unremarkable of a birthday as most but pain, during the few minutes he had been awake that day, had been the real protagonist of it, not Tony.

Thanksgiving hadn’t even been mentioned once between the four inhabitants of the Compound, and as far as Tony’s aware, it was also largely ignored by the rest of the population of the States. It had been perhaps too soon for a holiday centered around finding things to be grateful for or maybe this is a new normal in the world they live in, where Thanksgiving will never make sense again until they find a way to give the world the one thing they would feel grateful for.

Now in December the few times in the last couple of weeks Tony has needed to venture into the City he has found himself astounded when he’s realized how little decorations and signs of Christmas there were around him. The streets look well into winter, a little snowed and a little grey, they still also show some devastation and unrecovered damage, but there is nothing to even suggest that a holiday as major as Christmas is quickly approaching. 

Bruce’s birthday is also looming in the horizon and he has yet to say anything about it but maybe that is an statement all in itself. 

Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and any and every kind of special occasion haven’t found their place yet in the world they’re all now living in. 

 

_______________________________

 

Bruce’s birthday comes and goes just like Natasha’s and Steve’s did even though this time they do all spend the day together. 

They don’t mention it and they don’t do anything special but Tony knows it makes Bruce feel settled to have them all around him after weeks of mostly alone time. Tony and Bruce have always, after all, been similar in those aspects: loners both by choice and by default but always needing and seeking true connections, always striving for a way to feel truly comfortable surrounded by people and not often finding the way to be. 

As December 18th breezes past Tony realizes he hadn’t even been aware that the anniversary of his parents’ death had already happened two days before. This wouldn’t have surprised Tony two or three years ago; as he had started growing older and 1991 started getting further and further left behind Tony had felt its effects less and less every year.

That’s the thing with long-lasting grief you have to carry around with you for a long time: at first it feels monumental and deserving of its own days of remembrance and ceremony, but as it gets to become a part of you it stops having its own special days to instead accompany you during the mundane ones. 

But since Siberia and finding out the truth about his parents’ death - _murders_ \- Tony has felt the full blow of December 16th like never before, and he had been expecting -fearing and dreading- that it’d be worse now that he had Steve close. That the guilt of having forgiven Steve for the secret he kept for so long would have only enhanced the pain and the torture of that day. 

But for the first time in over 2 years thinking about his parents feels manageable again. It feels like something to still feel sad about but not something to let kill him. 

It’s like having Steve next to him actually helps him and makes things better. Who would have thought.

Before he can even begin to spend too much time thinking about it Christmas Eve arrives and it becomes all that Tony can actually ponder about. 

There should be nothing special about the day, just one more in the dozens and dozens of them they have to spend without so many people, but as it is the case with very recent grief, it takes advantage of normally momentous occasions to make itself known harder. 

Tony’s never been big on celebrating Christmas, not even when his parents were alive, and it hasn’t been something that’s ever troubled him. Yet this year it feels like something inside him is ripped apart at the idea of not being able to do so. It feels like he’s being stripped of something precious: the opportunity to share the day with all the people they’re missing. 

He spends the day with Natasha, Bruce and Steve and while it’s not a good day they do somehow make it better.

They don’t speak much, actually, they don’t cook a special dinner or exchange gifts or watch holiday movies. They spend it mostly in the living room sitting in silence, each of them doing their own thing while in the company of the others. 

It’s heartbreaking and devastating. It’s also settled and relaxed.

Natasha bids her goodnight the earliest and she leaves for her room after planting a kiss on each of the men’s foreheads.

Bruce is next after more or less an hour. His eyes are red from staring at his tablet screen for so long and he waves at them with one hand while rubbing at his eyes with the other. His footsteps echo softly down the hall.

Two minutes after Bruce’s departures Steve clears his throat gently, pulling Tony’s attention away from the book he was reading on his tablet. Tony switches the screen off and turns to the left look at him where they’re both sharing the couch. Steve looks fidgety, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up, one of his knees bouncing lightly and making the couch shake lightly. 

Tony doesn’t say anything, just frowns in question. 

“Would you—“ Steve starts and then clears his throat again. “I have something I want to show you.”

He stands up from his position on the couch and offers his right hand to Tony. 

“Come with me?” he asks.

Tony’s still confused but he takes Steve’s had without any trace of hesitation and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as Tony’s standing Steve drops his hand but the movement isn’t rushed or abrupt, it lingers and soothes, like Steve’s not really letting go, just guiding him along in other ways. 

They both start walking at the same time, mostly in sync although Steve’s strides are larger than Tony’s. One of Steve’s steps amounts to two of Tony’s. 

It doesn’t take long for Tony to realize they’re heading towards Steve’s room and this only serves to confound Tony more, wondering what it it that Steve has to show him in his room. 

When they get there the room’s door is open and Steve walks inside first. 

As Tony follows he can see his made bed and he takes notes of a couple of things around the room: one of Steve’s winter jackets thrown across an armchair, a drawer that’s only half shut, Steve’s phone left charging on his bedside table… It’s not the first time Tony’s been inside Steve’s room but they don’t tend to spend their time together on their bedrooms so it still kind of feels like novelty to be allowed here at all. 

Tony knows better than anyone how much of a safe space a private bedroom can become to a person. 

Tony keeps turning his body to look around the room, sure in the knowledge that Steve won’t mind and that he won’t find Tony's curiosity rude. The door to his ensuite bathroom is closed entirely, there’s a pair of socks balled up next to the right side of the bed and if he takes a discreet whiff of the air it smells like Steve’s keeping some sort of red fruits incense in the room but Tony can’t catch sight of any.

It doesn’t take Tony longer than three minutes to explore Steve’s room with his gaze and, through it all, Steve waits patiently next to a chest of drawers. He’s half sitting on them and one of his hands is gripping its edge while the other holds a square package. Tony hasn’t seen where he got it from but he can now see it’s wrapped in gift wrapping paper.

“Steve…” Tony whispers.

They hadn’t explicitly said it but it had been a tacit agreement that there would be no gift exchange at the Compound for the holidays and, up until this moment, Tony believed they had all complied to it. 

“Steve…” Tony repeats, because he feels like there’s nothing else he can say at the moment.

“I know we’re not doing the gift thing but I just had to,” Steve pronounces. “It’s not much but… I actually hope you don’t mind that I did it.”

Steve extends his arm, offering the gift to Tony. He feels like he’s moving through molasses when he reaches over and takes the package from Steve’s hand.

It’s rectangular, and Tony would think it could be a book if he wasn’t holding it and sensing it’s too light for that. The way it feels even through the paper is also wrong. The touch and shape feel familiar but he’s only holding the corner of it and through his muddled brain it feels difficult to guess. 

He’s still holding it when Steve laughs softly at him, more air than sound.

“You know you can open it, right?” Steve teases. “That’s what a gift is for.”

“Right,” Tony says and he wills his hands to start moving. 

The paper starts giving away easily and Tony feels badly about ripping into it so much instead of unwrapping the gift carefully but Steve doesn't look concerned so he keeps going. 

He must have opened the package backwards because it takes him a second to realize he’s looking at the back of a picture frame, the metal claws that fix the thin wood layer and the little clawfoot meant to help it stand.

He turns it around and his breath catches in his throat.

“I found the picture on FRIDAY’s server. I hope you don’t think I was snooping or anything like that,” Steve explains. “I just think it deserved to be displayed. You both look happy.”

And they were. At least he really was.

Tony’s hands start shaking and he can’t get over the shock of seeing Peter’s face once again, even if just in picture format.

The picture is goofy and Tony thinks it’s so fitting of them both. Tony had just given Peter some kind of diploma that had to do with the internship cover they still maintained even after Peter’s aunt found out about Spiderman. They had actually spent most of that morning together, Tony remembers, in Tony’s lab, working on updates and upgrades for Peter’s suit together.

They’re both giving each other bunny ears and stupidly that’s the thing that prompts Tony to start crying. 

They’re sad tears and happy tears and Tony’s mouth actually curls up in a soft smile despite it all. It must be mirror neurons or something because seeing Peter’s happy face in the photo compels him to smile back at the image. 

“I love this picture,” Tony’s voice breaks and he has to sniff loudly so his nose doesn’t start running. 

When that doesn’t help he has to wipe his under his nose with the cuff of his sweatshirt. 

“It’s a great one,” Steve agrees. “I hope it’s okay that I gave it to you.”

Tony starts nodding eagerly and he makes sure to make eye contact through his tears with Steve’s own gaze.

“Yes,” Tony confirms. “It’s more than okay. I have no words to… Just… Thank you.”

Steve smiles at him but Tony can’t look at him for much longer because his eyes are drawn back to the picture frame again. 

Looking at Peter’s face Tony realizes he doesn’t even know if Peter liked Christmas. Just one of the millions of things he’d make sure to learn if he ever had the chance again.

 _One of the millions of things I’ll have the chance to find out again when I fix this,_ Tony thinks.

They say Christmas is the time of miracles and Tony keeps wishing and wishing for the only one that matters.

 

_______________________________

 

Steve’s gift gets placed on Tony’s bedside table and every morning when he wakes up Tony makes sure it is the first thing he sees. 

When Steve walks into his room one morning he has to duck his head to hide the delighted smile that takes over his features when he spots it. Tony still sees it.

They don’t get their Christmas miracle but they don’t stop wishing and working for it.

 

_______________________________

 

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Happy New Year,” Natasha whispers.

The living room feels so empty it’s almost suffocating. The space could host dozens of people comfortably but only Bruce, Rhodey, Steve, Tony and Natasha herself are occupying it at the moment. 

Tony’s lived through more than forty New Year’s Eve. Some of them he can’t remember because he was too young when they happened. Some of them he can’t remember because he got too drunk and sometimes even too high. Some of them were spent surrounded by hundreds of people, some of them were spent on his own and in a few lucky ones he got to spend the night with people he truly loved and who loved him back. 

Today the last is true, Tony _is_ surrounded by his family, his loved ones. And yet, there’s nothing truly happy about the day. 

There’s nothing happy about the day for Tony, there’s nothing happy about the day for the people around him and there’s nothing happy about the day for the world.

How many more of these days will they have to live through? How many more times will they need to be painfully reminded of what they lost?

How many more times will Tony need to be reminded of all his failures?

The table bobbles as Tony rapidly stands and knocks into it with his thighs. Bruce and Rhodey reach over to keep their glasses from spilling while turning to look at him, just as Natasha and Steve do. Steve’s hand is hovering in the air, like he started reaching for Tony but stopped halfway through and now doesn't know what to do with it. 

“Excuse me,” Tony murmurs as he pushes his chair back, tuns around and starts walking away. 

 _It’s unfair_ , he thinks, _that all of us share this pain and yet I still feel the need to retreat._

Tony can feel his heart drumming in his ears every time he takes a step, a deafening sound that drowns out everything else around him. He knows Rhodey and Steve are calling him back but Tony listens to them as if underwater. 

Getting to his room is an uphill battle. It’s like having to climb Mount Everest while carrying all the bodies of the people he’s had to watch die on his back. Jarvis, who he has been missing for so many years. JARVIS, who he never in a million years thought he would have to mourn one day. His mom, both the caring and the detached parts of her. Yinsen, and even Yinsen’s family despite the fact that he never knew them. Peter.

Peter.

He barely makes it without breaking and as soon as he opens the door the feelings crash into him like a tidal wave. He tries to get to his bed but his knees are shaking and he sinks to the floor before the mattress can soften the blow of his collapse.

Everything is trembling around him or maybe it is just him. 

No matter how many times Tony has had panic attacks before he always feels the same staggering fear inside. It never gets easier although he’s now more equipped to deal with them. 

It sometimes feels even more difficult that when he first started having to deal with them. Back then the fear of dying was still because of his lack of understanding. Nowadays the fear of dying comes _despite_ the understanding.

He knows he won’t die and yet he thinks he will. He knows it’s not real and yet there’s never been anything more real than this.

The panic is always like a wave that crashes into him suddenly and powerfully. 

There’s a slow movement to Tony’s right and Tony opens his eyes, not having realized previously that he had closed them. Everything is blurry around him but through the daze Tony can make out the shape of Steve in the doorway, so imposing and comforting at the same time. 

Steve’s left foot is poised forwards like he was in the middle of taking a step and then he stopped abruptly. 

Tony blinks forcefully and rubs his shaking fists into his eyes to clear his vision. When he looks at Steve again the man has one arm on the doorway, gripping it tightly, his knuckles white. His other hand is balled up into a fist next to his thigh. His posture screams worry and pain and if Tony looks up into Steve’s face that’s what his expressions reflects too. 

 “Sorry,” Tony says reluctantly, trying to stand up from his position still kneeling on the hardwood floor.

He knows he need not apologize but there’s something in him that compels him too, anyway. It’s not guilt, embarrassment or doubt because this is Steve in front of him. Maybe it’s habit, or some sort of learnt instinct that’s impossible to get rid of, he’s not sure. 

There is some unmistakable resignation in him, though. Resignation about the fact that this is now the life he’s got to live, that these are the cards he’s been dealt. There’s never peace in his life, just a mockery of it, just like it feels like there is never justice. He never wins and maybe that’s karma or some bullshit like that but what about the others who lose with him? They deserve so much better and they’re never granted their break. 

Tony’s knees fail him once more and he’s about to hit the floor harshly again when Steve grabs him by the armpits and picks him up, bringing him to his feet. Tony’s back is now to Steve’s chest. Steve’s hands move to Tony’s hips and they help him find his balance.

From this position Tony can’t see Steve, but he can feel how Steve shakes his head vehemently, his grip on Tony tightening and then softening a second later.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Steve corrects him. “I’m just here to see if you’re okay.”

Tony scoffs and he opens his arms widely. 

“I’m so okay,” he says. “Super okay.”

“I can see that, yeah,” Steve says. 

The silence that follows Steve’s sentence is deafening.

Until Tony breaks it by bursting out laughing. 

A bomb has gone off inside him and he can’t stop the devastating effects of it except all the bomb has done is mess up with every single one of his emotions, tangling them up so thoroughly he’s not sure which one he’s feeling anymore. There’s no joy but there’s also no pain, there’s no sorrow or anger. There’s an emptiness in the mist of all the chaos and it’s both a relief and a warning sign.

Everything becomes better and worse when Tony starts to feel Steve’s chest move against his back. It starts shaking and shaking and shaking. Steve’s grip is so forceful that Tony can’t turn around to look at him. It’s only when a huge burst of laughter resonates around the room that Tony understands.

And he starts laughing again, his laughter mixing with Steve’s, creating a not very harmonious pattern that Tony wishes he could record and play forever.

Their laughter dies down slowly and naturally, transforming itself into puffs of breath that leave both Tony’s and Steve’s mouths. Tony can feel Steve’s on the back of his neck and his arms grow goosebumps at the sensation. 

Once they’ve completely calmed down Steve moves his hands off of Tony’s hips only to bring them to his shoulders and slowly start instructing him to turn around without words. This brings them both eye to eye as soon as Tony tilts his head to look up at Steve. Their chests aren’t touching but they’re not a full inch apart. 

As soon as Tony’s gaze settles on Steve’s the need for hiding dissipates. 

“I’m not okay,” Tony admits, shrugging a little bit.

“I know,” Steve chuckles. “And I think you can tell I’m not okay either. I mean, the dramatic and hysteric laughter might have given it away, maybe.”

Tony lets out a short and sad laugh. “Yeah.”

Steve’s hands leave Tony’s shoulders by running down his arms. The touch is light but Tony can still feel it through his long-sleeved t-shirt. It only takes a few seconds for Steve’s hands to reach Tony’s and he takes them in his gently. Steve’s thimbles start rubbing circles in the back of Tony’s hands and Steve’s eyes are focused intensely on the motion. 

Tony is looking at Steve, his eyes roaming through his face now that Steve seems to be too occupied to look at him strangely for studying him in so much detail. There’s a small frown set in-between Steve’s eyebrows and for some reason this one small detail is what prompts Tony to say something he’s been afraid of saying for quite some time now.

“I think I need to go back to therapy.”

Steve’s head shoots up and his expression shifts into one of surprise, his eyebrows raising. 

“I probably should have said this a while ago but better late than never right?” 

Tony meant for his voice to sound light but it doesn’t. It carries all the weight in the world. 

One of Steve’s hands leaves Tony’s and with the remaining hold he has on his right one Steve starts moving slowly towards Tony’s bed. In just a few, short steps they reach Tony’s bed and Steve signals Tony to sit on the edge of it. He doesn’t let go of Tony’s hand when he sits but his hold is lighter now, like he’s giving Tony the opportunity to pull away if he so desires. Tony doesn’t want to break his connection to Steve so he tightens his hold on Steve’s hand and pulls him forward until Steve gets the hint and moves to sit next to him.

When Steve sits next to him the bed hardly bounces, the mattress too hard for that. The space between their thighs is minimal and Tony feels it in his bones. 

Tony isn’t sure who does it but between one breathe and the next their fingers are intertwined. 

Tony’s mind is still trying to wander away, to play tricks on him and get him lost in the confines of his nightmares, but Steve’s presence and his touch is keeping things bay. Tony’s better at fighting monsters when Steve’s by his side and this has always been the truth.

“Thank you,” Steve says.

The non-sequitur confuses Tony and makes him turn his body towards Steve’s looking deeply into his eyes to try and find an explanation.

“What are you thanking me for?” Tony asks. 

“Trusting me and telling me that,” Steve answers. “I know it isn’t easy to let other people see you vulnerable. I especially know it isn’t easy for you and me.”

“Oh” Tony murmurs in understanding. “Well, yeah.”

“You know I…,” Steve clears his throat. “I’ve also been thinking lately that I could use some help. I’m pretty sure at this point everyone could use some professional help. Hell, the professionals might need some professional help themselves.”

Tony laughs at the reality and the irony of the statement. 

“I’ve been doing some research,” Steve explains. “Into group therapy and professionals. Psychologists and stuff. People who could fit, you know? I’ve been doing it for me but um… Also for you.”

Tony opens his mouth to say something but no sound comes out of his lips, his mouth staying halfway open and his eyes wide from the surprise. 

Steve shakes his head and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry if that was inappropriate and if I overstepped but I just… I just…” Steve takes a deep breathe and opens his eyes, focusing his gaze somewhere over Tony’s shoulder. “I want to help. I want to help you, Tony. And I want us to be okay. I know that’s an utopia because this is not something we can just be okay with but we deserve to at least not feel this bad.”

“Steve,” Tony whispers. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you don’t think I’m creepy and gross for doing this?” Steve pleads, the hand Tony’s holding in his going clammy and shaky. 

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, squeezing Steve’s hand twice and bringing his other hand to Steve’s cheek, a little raspy from the day’s worth of stubble it’s got on it. “You’re not creepy or gross for doing this, Steve. I’m grateful. And I’m also glad that you kept yourself in mind in all of this. I think help could do us both a lot of good.”

Steve sighs in relief, like his concern for what Tony’s reaction would be to the revelation had been pressing down on his chest for weeks and he’s now finally able to breathe properly. 

“How about we make a pact?” Tony announces a little suddenly and a little too loudly, startling Steve.

“A pact?” Steve asks warily. 

Tony nods.

“I help you find help,” Tony states, motioning to himself and then to Steve. “And you help me find help.” This time Tony points first to Steve and then to himself. “How does that sound?”

Tony doesn’t need to hear the answer to know what it will be. It’s written all over Steve’s face. 

“It sounds perfect,” Steve answers. “We can do this…”

Tony can feel the hesitancy and he knows that Steve’s sentence wasn’t meant to finish there. He also knows what Steve was about to say. 

“Together,” Tony finishes for him. “We can do this together.”

 

_______________________________

 

Finding help is sometimes not as easy as wanting to find it, but the first step is certainly one of the most important ones. Perhaps that is also why it can be one of the scariest ones. 

It takes a while for Steve and Tony to find the aid that fits them best. Throughout the process there are near misses between them, attempts at quitting and bouts of anger and frustration. Some people would say the difficulties make the positive results that much more rewarding but Tony just thinks hurt is hurt and it’s never pleasant no matter the outcome. 

Tony goes through three different psychologists before finding the one who works best for him, a young woman that only just recently graduated and is working two different jobs, one in a private clinic and one in a non-profit organization for people who lost loved ones in the Decimation. Steve’s search is more straight-forward and he starts seeing a therapist that Sam used to know and sometimes worked with. 

There are days they can’t stand to look at each other after their sessions, and not even just at each other but at anyone else they live with. The guilt is too powerful and they need to be alone. They all understand by now, luckily,  and it’s almost like it never happened when they rejoin life around the Compound.

Other times trying to explain their situation is too difficult, Tony has noticed. He doesn't blame the rest of the world for not going through their same ordeals and he would never want them to have to, but it’s complicated to explain how he feels and what he’s going through to someone that has never had to experience any of it. 

Yes, the Decimation is something the whole world shares. But no, it’s not the same for everyone. It’s definitely not the same for them. 

Those days they rely on each other, always within a set of boundaries they’re working hard to create. They want to help each other but they can’t depend unhealthily on the other saving them. 

Tony helps Steve and Steve helps Tony, but in order to be able to do this they both need to be able to help themselves.

Natasha and Bruce are a big part of their process as well and Tony finds that the little changes that happen within him ripple out to bring changes in the group dynamic. It’s easier to understand Natasha’s need for constant movement and it’s also easier to understand that there are days she can’t move at all. His anxiety about Bruce’s obsessive work into the Hulk and other super-powered projects gets more manageable and he even achieves having a conversation about it with him to point out his concerns. 

The desire -almost need- to fix things still looms over all of them but they’re not killing themselves in the pursuit of it any longer and Tony has learned that that is a huge step. 

It’s something Steve once mentioned in passing in a conversation about what happened during those days when they had to fight Thanos separately. 

 _“We don’t trade lives,”_ Steve had said to Vision.

If they want to make things better for the world once again that might need to include them staying alive throughout everything, not just the parts that inevitably need of their response. 

Steve brings up again the topic of group therapy a couple months into their separate work towards recovery -or at least towards the closest thing to recovery they’ll be able to get-. 

Tony isn’t sure, at first. 

Therapy twice a week on his own is already hard enough, raw in ways he’s not sure he’d be able to explain. It drains him of energy while at the same time filling him up with hope. It kills him over and over again, only to bring him back to life. Sharing all that with a group of strangers that have their own crosses to bear… It sounds terrifying. 

But deep down he knows Steve is right and this won’t only be good for them, but for the people who get to see them. Like it or not they’re still symbols that the world follows and though there isn’t much he can do to help nowadays maybe this one small act will calm down the relentlessness inside him, that one voice that whispers he could be doing more. 

The first group session Steve and him attend falls on a Thursday. Tony doesn't speak beyond a causal and useless introduction, seeing as how everyone’s eyes had widened the minute Steve and him had walked through the doors of the almost abandoned primary school. Steve speaks a little more; a comment here and there, an interested question to some of the other members.

When they make it back to the Compound they’re silent, just like they were silent on the ride back, Tony driving and Steve looking out the window. It’s a comfortable silence but it’s nevertheless a charged one.

As soon as they step foot in the residence building Natasha materializes in front of them, almost out of thin air, her breathing irregular and loud signaling she must have run to meet them when she saw Tony’s car entering the long driveway through the perimeter cameras. 

She looks ruffled and her eyes can’t seem to focus solely on Tony or Steve, moving rapidly back and forth between them. She’s so deep into her frenzied mood that she’s not picking up on Steve’s and Tony’s poignant ones.

Steve and Tony share a short but intense look of confusion between them but neither of them say anything and they just wait for Natasha to speak. 

“Rhodey found him,” Natasha announces, still out of breath. “He found Clint and I’m going to go get him.”

 

_______________________________

 

Clint arrives at Avengers Compound with Natasha four days after she goes to Kazan looking for him. 

Tony doesn’t see him but he catches up with Natasha on the common kitchen when he gets back from a meeting related to Stark Industries in Boston. 

She’s there making coffee when Tony walks in and when she turns around to face him the bags under her eyes are more pronounced that Tony has ever seen them. Her eyes look glossy and the redness under her nose gives away just how much she’s been crying. 

“Nat,” Tony whispers, his voice caught on his throat and his brain stuck trying to find the right words that he’s pretty sure don’t exist. 

Natasha makes a choking sound and, in a clumsy move so unlike herself, she trips over her own feet to get to Tony. Tony takes a step forward to stop her momentum and she falls into his chest, her body hitting his harshly, making him bring his right foot back to regain his balance. 

Natasha buries her face between Tony’s shoulder and neck. She makes no sound but Tony feels unmistakable wetness on his skin. 

Natasha is trying to hide her crying face but her proximity to Tony and the desperate grip her hands have on the back of his suit jacket mean she’s not trying to hide completely from him.

Tony closes his arms around her petite figure, placing one of his hands on the back of her head and the other between her shoulder blades. He tilts his head slightly to rest his temple against the side of her head. He makes no shushing noises, no motions rocking them back and forth. He doesn't offer her empty and meaningless platitudes.

He just holds her as she cries and silently vows to do his best to help her. To help Clint. 

 

_______________________________

 

There’s a ghost living with them at the Compound in the shape of Clint Barton. 

He’s there but he’s not there. There are traces of his presence and yet it would be very easy to miss them and believe he never arrived. 

Tony has rarely seen him in the couple of weeks since Natasha brought him back with them and he knows the same can be said for Steve and Bruce. Even Natasha is getting limited contact with him, only being able to get close to him when he leaves his room of his own volition, never being allowed in. 

“This is a thousand times better than before,” is what Natasha says about it every time the issue comes up.

Before.  

Before, when Clint had taken it upon himself to start some sort of vigilante justice crusade. Before when he was Ronin. 

Rhodey had caught them all up in the situation; shown them the reports and the footage, the images and the theories, but it’s still a little hard to wrap their heads around. 

“There will need to be further action about this, Natasha,” Rhodey’s hologram says during one of his meetings with the habitants of the Compound minus Clint himself. “I told you this already. I’ll try to delay it as much as I can but… It will happen.”

“I know,” Natasha confirms. “Thanks, Rhodey.”

Ronin is proof of what people can become when they think they have nothing left to lose, Tony thinks.

He was never that close to Clint himself back when the Avengers were still the Avengers. In fact, out of all the original members Clint was definitely the one Tony had had less of a bond with. 

Finding out about Clint’s family had still smart, though. Not really because it felt like a betrayal or because he had been hurt Clint hadn’t trust him enough with his secret, more because of the fact that Tony hadn’t been able to find out for himself. It had gone completely over his head and Tony didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability that had left him with. 

There had also been another reason Clint’s reveal had been sort of an unbalancing point for him.

In a way it had proven that the Avengers weren’t the dream Tony had wanted them to be. They were convenient, not inseparable and for Tony, who had so many expectations and desires set on them, it had felt like a blow stricken directly to the heart.

It’s somewhat ironic and completely morbid that now that Tony feels like he’s got the family he always envisioned the Avengers to be that had to come at the expense of Clint’s own family. 

He knows it’s not his fault, and he’s learning day by day that he doesn’t need to deprive himself of the people that surround him because some part of him tells him he doesn’t deserve them.

It’s still a little instinctual to let Clint pounce on him and use him as an escape goat for all of his hurt and anger. 

They’re all in the living room, this time Clint included, and Natasha has been trying to explain for the past twenty minutes the necessity of a hearing for Clint’s case. 

“You need to explain your actions,” she’s said more than once.

“Government officials, law enforcement agencies and international committees are all calling for this,” she’s explained. 

The conversation goes in circles time and time again as Clint presents his own arguments and views, a mixture and variations of “I didn’t do anything wrong”, “They weren’t innocent people” and “There isn’t enough proof to actually say it was me”. 

For the entirety of the conversation Bruce, Steve and Tony have let Natasha be the only one to do the talking, because she’s the one with the most information and hence is the best prepared one and also because Clint’s is hers in a way he isn’t anyone else’s of the men present.

But Natasha’s patience is visibly running thin and Tony decides to intervene to give her a much deserved break as she brings her thumb and index finger to press high on the bridge of her nose. 

“Clint, man, this is not something we can just make go away,” Tony explains from his position on the couch next to Steve. “And we all know this is just a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit, anyway. I doubt it will have strong, negative repercussions. But it can’t be swept under the rug, not even with the world in this state.”

“Don’t you talk to me about the state of the world,” Clint’s raised voice sends a shock down Tony’s back. 

In a few short steps Clint moves so he’s standing over Tony, who’s still sitting on the couch, his back straight and his head looking up at the other man. The position is very much threatening and although Tony’s not necessarily afraid or intimated he still shallows harshly. 

“What have you ever done for the world, Stark? I’m being called to speak about my actions but at least I have helped get rid of some of the scum this world has to offer. All you’ve done is create more filth.”

Tony’s heart is beating wildly inside his chest and he can feel Steve going rigid next to him, his hands fisting on the couch’s cushions. He can’t see Bruce from his position but he can hear the surprised exhalation he just let out.

“Maybe I should have gone for you first, huh?” Clint’s voice gets crueler each sentence but it also lowers itself, coming out rougher. “You’re no better than all tho—” 

“Enough!”

Natasha’s yell echoes around the living room and it halts Steve in his process of getting up to face Clint. As if magnetized, Steve’s body falls immediately onto the couch again, this time closer to Tony, their thighs and shoulders touching in wordless support. 

Natasha moves with determination to place herself a couple of feet away from Clint, forcing him to face her instead of the couch where Steve and Tony are seated. Her shoulders are tense and the set of jaw looks almost painful with how heard she must be clenching it. 

“I know being a dick can be part of your trademark but you just went beyond what’s acceptable,” Natasha states as she points with her right hand at Clint. 

“This is not about Tony but even if it was he’s got nothing to be ashamed of,” Natasha says. “Can you say the same?”

Clint stays silent but his posture still screams combativeness. 

“We all fought against Thanos,” Natasha says as she signals around the room at herself, Bruce, Steve and Tony. “And we lost, yes, but we fought him. I don’t fault you for not being there but you can’t fault us for losing. You don’t know what it was like, Clint, you can’t even begin to imagine. And you want to blame Tony?”

Natasha lets out a bitter laugh. 

“Why? Because you’re still not over what happened in Leipzig?” Natasha asks, incredulously. “We’ve all been working through that, Clint, and you would know that if you had been here. It’s been years and we’re not perfectly fine with it but it’s not something we use to hurt each other anymore so you don’t get to do it either.”

A flush of warmth unfurls from Tony’s chest and sends tingles down to his fingertips. He has to rub them together to calm the slight itch he feels on them at the same time that he has to bite his lip to stop a whimper from escaping his throat. 

Natasha throws him a quick glance and he gifts her with a shaky and grateful smile.

“This is about you. It’s all about you,” Natasha emphasizes, bringing her finger to poke at Clint’s chest. “About the things you’ve been doing since the Decimation. You think Laura would be proud? You think your kids would be proud?”

“Don’t…” Clint whimpers as he shakes his head erratically. 

“I don’t pretend to know what it’s been like, okay? What you lost… I can’t…” Natasha chokes on her words and she brings her hands to her face rub her palms over her skin. “But you pushed me away, you didn’t let me help. You went off and you decided you knew what was best. That’s not how the world works and if you think it is maybe that’s why you still have so many problems with Tony regarding the Accords.”

The room grows colder at the comment and Clint’s whole body deflates at the slight. 

“You made a decision when you took on the role of Ronin and that decision has consequences. You will face those consequences, Clint, I will make sure of that,” Natasha states. “But you think I went through all this trouble to get you back just because of that? I just wanted my best friend back. I wanted you here with me so we could support each other.”

Natasha wipes away the tears that have fallen from her eyes even though new ones keep rolling down her cheeks.

“I’ve lost so much already. I don’t want to lose my best friend too.”

Natasha is the first one to make her exit after she pronounces those words, walking hurriedly out of the room through the doors that lead to the outside yard. 

Bruce, Steve and Tony leave simultaneously, their pace less hurried but just as determined as Natasha’s.

Clint stays in the same position as they walk out of the leaving room: arms hanging limply by his sides, shoulders slumped, head hanging down, tears wetting his face and his low sobbing noises his only companions.  

 

_______________________________

 

"Clint should have never said that to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him, Nat,” Tony assures her as they’re talking a walk around the gardens together. 

“I know that,” Natasha confirms. “I didn't defend you because I had to but because I wanted to. What he said isn’t true and I have no problems letting him know that.”

Their hands join between their bodies and they playfully swing them back and forth as they continue walking. 

“I still feel guilty for how I talked to him,” Natasha confesses. “I just want to help him, not make things more difficult for him.”

“You love him and he knows that,” Tony says. “That’s more important than anything else right now. He’ll come around.”

 

_______________________________

 

A year.

There are 365 days in any given year, except if it is a leap one. 

There are 12 months; there are 52 weeks; there are 8,760 hours. 

There are uncountable moments and irreplaceable happenings. 

There are winter nights and summer days. 

There are births and deaths. 

A year can be so short and it can be so long. 

Only one year. 

One year already.

A whole, entire year. 

 

_______________________________

 

Steve was the one to volunteer even though Natasha told him there was no need for him to do it. 

Tony’s reiterated Natasha’s words since then and he’s asked Steve to back down countless times since Steve decided he would speak at the memorial for the one year anniversary of the Decimation. 

“I can do this, Tony,” Steve has said every time. 

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do this, it’s that you shouldn’t have to. Let someone else shoulder the responsibility for once,” has been Tony’s response time and time again. 

But Steve is Steve and the sense of duty he feels in regards to this day is unbreakable. 

The event is the biggest Tony has ever participated in and that’s saying something. It’s still the most silent he has ever heard the Washington DC streets being. 

If Tony had to give a rough estimate of the number of people that have congregated in front of the White House for the memorial he would confidently say there are around 2 million people that have come from all over the country for this. Probably also from all over the world.

Each and every single one of these people Tony is looking towards to lost someone a year ago. It’s statistics, mathematics, the simple fact that half the population died and that means all of the other remaining half of the planet had to suffer the consequences too. 

The President is speaking but Tony’s not paying attention to his words. 

A year ago the United States of America president vanished away in front of a cabinet of his most trusted advisors. A year later the man who was then Vice President holds his place. Not for much longer, however, seeing as how only 2 months ago anticipated elections were announced in response to massive and multitudinous protests all around the country. 

It’s been one year since the Decimation and the country still gives no signs of completely recovering. 

The world is in shambles and it’s been in shambles for a while now.

The sound of someone clearing his throat into the microphone resonates through the gigantic speakers placed around the building and in front of the crowd. 

It’s Steve.

Tony’s attention gets pulled back to the happenings around him and he focuses his gaze on Steve’s back. He is wearing a simple black suit and Tony is having trouble associating this side of Steve with the man he’s accustomed to. It’s understandable that Steve wouldn’t show up at the White House in sweatpants and a hoodie, but Tony’s so used to watching Steve walk around the Compound like that that it feels almost surreal to see him so dressed up now.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Steve starts saying as the President retreats and leaves Steve alone at the podium with the microphone. “And thank you for inviting me to speak today. Thank you as well for letting the remaining Avengers participate in this memorial.”

They’re outdoors and yet if feels like Steve’s words are sucking the air out of the world. No one seems to be breathing, too enthralled and connected to Steve to do anything but hang to his every word. For Tony it’s always felt like Steve can command a room simply by walking into it so it’s no surprise that everyone else feels like that too.

Not all the remaining Avengers have come for remembrance to DC today. Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey and Tony stand behind Steve in a gesture of unconditional support. Clint never responded when Natasha knocked on his door before they all had to leave the Compound in the jet. Thor still isn't replying to any of Bruce’s messages and calls.

“I’m not sure anything I can say today can do justice to what happened a year ago.” Steve’s voice is firm but Tony can hear perfectly well the affliction in it, the tightness around his words. “None of us have been the same since Thanos and I don’t think any of us will ever be. I wish I didn’t have to be here today giving this speech, I’d give anything for things to go back to the way they were. But although I wish this wasn’t necessary I’m here today because I want to remind everyone of a very important thing: we haven’t forgotten. The Avengers haven’t forgotten.”

Tony hasn’t heard or read any of Steve’s speech before this moment, and a quick glance out of the corner of his eye to Natasha tells him she hasn't either. Her face looks smooth and calm but Tony can read her tension in the small curve of her lips and her fidgeting fingers.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t have authority to speak for the Avengers as an enterprise. Even though they’ve gone through many ups and downs and they’re now only a speck of what they once were Tony still holds Steve as a leader in his mind and he knows the rest of the group does too.

But the things one says about the Avengers these days hold a much deeper meaning than ever before. 

The Avengers have to tread more lightly than ever and Tony hopes Steve hasn't forgotten about that. 

“The Avengers are still here for you and we haven’t given up.” Steve’s voice suddenly seems booming, like a drum that makes Tony’s chest vibrate painfully. “We’ll keep working to protect you and while we’re not by any means perfect we try our best every time. I promise you, not only as Captain America but as Steve Rogers as well, that we’re doing everything in our power to fix what’s been broken, to bring back what’s been lost.”

Steve’s words are careful and a little ambiguous but in their circumstance there is no mistaking or misunderstanding them: he is promising the world they’ll fix the Decimation. 

Tony’s heart stops in his chest. 

It seems like treading lightly has just gone out the window. 

“But during these times the Avengers are not the real heroes. All of you, who keep living day by day with so much pain inside you, who show your strength in the most unlikely of moments, you’re the heroes. The world needs you just as much as it needs the Avengers, if not more. We, the Avengers, need you. We need you to support your neighbors, to support your communities. We need you to stay on the right path. We need you to not lose hope.”

Tony’s hands ball into fists and he needs to start focusing on keeping his breathing regular. Bruce, who is next to him, whispers Tony’s name under his breath as he looks subtly at him, not losing his solemn position. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Tony murmurs back.

Bruce doesn't seem convinced despite Tony’s reassurances and although he moves his gaze back to Steve his eyes dart towards Tony a couple more times in just a few seconds. 

Tony feels anger building up inside him but the fire doesn’t burn for long. The flames turn into smoke quickly and although he still feels angry enough to know he’ll find it difficult to talk to Steve after the event is over the feeling that starts consuming him rapidly is despair. 

All those implicit promises, the blind encouragement, the baseless hope.

He’s now responsible for all of those. They all are, all the Avengers.

“The world is more complicated than ever. It’s also sadder than ever,” Steve keeps talking, oblivious to the way his words are causing an unraveling inside of Tony. “But we mustn’t forget that it is still a world worth fighting for. It’s a world worth living in and I want all of you to remind yourselves of that every day. It’s been a year since the Decimation, a year of very dark days and nights. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, we just have to keep pushing through. Thank you everyone for coming. Let’s share a minute of silence for everyone we wish could be here with us today and who, hopefully, will be here with us again.”

It’s the longest minute of Tony’s life and when it ends, protocol be damned, Tony walks down the makeshift stage hurriedly, not waiting for any of his friends. Tony looks around for a few minutes until he finds the most discreet place he can in the tumult of backstage. There’s no press here, no government representatives aside from some very busy-looking people with clipboards that are walking back and forth a few feet from him and paying him no attention. 

As soon as he’s made sure he won’t be causing a scene or disturbing anything, he presses down onto the arc reactor in the middle of his chest and the suit starts assembling around him. 

It’s fast and efficient and the second the last of the nanobots slips into place Tony feels it deep in his bones. The suit is him and he is the suit.

Without any hesitation Tony takes to the sky, leaving the memorial and Steve’s words behind but not being able to get rid of the sinking feeling ingrained inside him. 

 

_______________________________

 

The minute the rest of the group makes it home Tony knows it. There is no way he can miss the shouts and yells that drown the Compound as soon as they all walk inside the building. FRIDAY stays uncharacteristically quiet and doesn’t announce their arrival so she must have noticed Tony’s slight stumble and the way he freezes as soon as he hears his friends’ voices.

Tony arrived at the Compound almost an hour and a half ago, his suit a lot faster than the jet the Avengers had travelled in, especially at the speed Tony was pushing it despite FRIDAY’s warnings. He just needed to make it home and the faster he arrived the more time alone he could have, he had reasoned.

The time alone has finished now even though he’s still well sequestered in the privacy of his room.

From his bedroom, and with the door firmly shut, Tony can’t make out the words being said by the other Avengers but Natasha’s voice is unmistakably the loudest. It’s followed by Steve’s. Rhodey’s gruff comments are scarce. The only way Tony knows Bruce has made it back with them is because the feed from the security cameras outside caught the four of them walking in. 

Growing agitated at the muffled sounds from the outside Tony walks into his adjoined bathroom and turns on the shower. The shower head is a big and round thing that makes it rain inside the big glass cubicle. If he so desires Tony can change the settings to a thick jet, a lighter stream, a steam sort of spraying and 4 jets that don’t stop moving in circles for some reason Tony has yet to understand. 

He leaves it as it is, maybe because he wants the storm in his heart to match the sort of storm the downpour creates in the shower.

Tony does turn the temperature hotter until the steam fogs the sliding glass doors. The mirror also starts quickly fogging up as Tony takes his time undressing and walking in. 

The water is on the verge of being too hot, Tony’s skin reddening and turning more sensitive as he positions his body directly under the spray. He’s careful not to stick his head completely under the falling water, knowing his anxiety is too volatile at the moment and that it could trigger unpleasant memories he’s associated with water for years now. 

Inside the shower the only sounds he can hear are the water cascading around him, the splashes his feet make as he moves and turns and his own breathing. 

It’s a welcome distraction from the situation that’s taking place outside. Tony knows he won’t be able to ignore it forever but every minute he can delay the inevitable is a minute he cherishes. 

He knows the confrontation with Steve needs to happen sooner rather than later but it’s still dreadful to realize. It’s been so long since he and Steve have had a real fight and the mere thought of this reverting all the positive steps they’ve taken in their relationship feels terrifying. 

Tony walks out of the shower when his fingers start showing signs of pruning. 

As he wraps a towel around his waist he rubs the fingers of his right hand together, getting distracted by the weird and mesmerizing sensation of his wrinkled and mushy skin. 

He absentmindedly keeps repeating the motion as he gets dressed in comfortable clothes and only stops when FRIDAY’s voice startles him and pulls him out of his head. 

“Boss, I thought maybe you’d like to know that the Captain is now alone in the kitchen.”

Tony sighs as he hangs his damp towel out to dry in the hook behind the bathroom door.

“Thanks, FRI.”

If Rhodey or Bruce were here with him Tony would be trying to make light of the situation by making a joke. Maybe a “It’s show time” comment or a big show of rolling his eyes obnoxiously. Hell, if it wasn't Steve who Tony had to confront in just a few seconds _Steve_ would most likely be the one making a defusing joke. 

But there are no jokes, just a closed bedroom door he needs to open and a man he needs to face. 

Tony decides not to think too hard about it and he pulls open his door, walking in the direction of the kitchen confidently and purposefully. 

The sight that greets him as soon as he arrives is highly familiar and very similar to the one he had been staring at only hours ago during the memorial. 

Steve’s back is only covered by a white shirt now, the black jacket he was wearing before discarded haphazardly on the chair next to him. His shoulders rise and fall in time with his loud breaths and he has surprisingly not noticed Tony’s presence yet. That proves how far gone into his head Steve must be because it’s normally extremely difficult to get past his reflexes.

Tony clears his throat to let Steve know he’s there and Steve’s shoulders tense immediately. He doesn't turn around, however. Tony doesn’t know if he prefers it this way or if he would rather have the opportunity to look Steve in the eye. 

“Here to yell at me too?” Steve asks him, a hard edge to his voice.

“I don’t need to yell to let you know I’m angry,” Tony replies.

“So you _are_ angry,” Steve says.

Tony scoffs as he rolls his eyes and walks further into the kitchen. “I didn’t think you’d need confirmation on that.”

“Yeah, should have known you’d be against me in this too,” Steve comments just as Tony positions himself right in front of him, standing across the table where Steve’s seated. 

“Don’t,” Tony warns harshly and Steve looks up at him instantly. “Don’t try to turn this into something it isn’t. And don’t take your frustration out on me just because you’ve already butted heads with Natasha about this. We need to talk about this because if not… Well, we know how badly things can go between us, Steve.”

“I know,” Steve concedes closing his eyes and exhaling strongly through his nose. “I just don’t understand what is so bad about this.”

“You don’t?” Tony asks incredulously. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am serious,” Steve confirms and Tony falls into the chair across from him, shaking his head. “I just gave people hope. I let them know the Avengers are still here for them. Are you telling me that’s not true?”

“You know that’s not what the problem is,” Tony says as he leans forward on his chair. “You spoke on behalf of all of us and told people we can fix the world.”

“I told people we’re always trying to do better, to make this world better and that so should they!”

“And that’s a good thing, of course it is,” Tony says, keeping his voice calm even though Steve’s own tone is rising. “We _are_ trying to do better and we want people to keep moving forward. That’s true. But that’s not all you did.”

“I said what I thought was right,” Steve explains.

“You said what you thought would make people happy without stopping for a minute to think if it was true,” Tony disagrees. 

“I didn't lie,” Steve remarks resolutely. His right fist hits the wood table emphasizing his point but Tony doesn’t startle. 

“But you didn't tell the truth either.”

“Yes, I did,” Steve argues. “Not one thing I said was anything but the truth. Everything was true!”

“You promised those people we’re going to bring everyone back!” It bursts out of Tony in the form of a shout and he is so overwhelmed his eyes close and his jaw tightens in rage. 

“And we are!” 

Steve’s own outburst is only met with silence. 

Tony presses his lips firmly together as he swallows down and feels a bitter taste in his mouth. He opens his eyes slowly and finds Steve looking directly at him. His eyes look unsubdued and his face is set in a hard expression. 

Tony looks at him and looks at him. And then he looks at him for a few more seconds. 

His heart breaks.

“Are we?”

Steve visibly flinches at Tony’s question but he quickly tries to hide his reaction. Before he can completely shut off Tony moves one of his hands so it covers Steve’s fist where it’s still resting on the table. Tony’s hand is much smaller than Steve’s so Tony brings forth his other hand and cradles Steve’s in both of his.

“We don’t know that, Steve,” Tony whispers. “We don’t.”

Steve stays silent as he looks to the side and bites his lip. Tony tracks with his eyes the path of a lone tear that stars rolling down Steve’s chiseled cheekbone. 

“We all want to believe that we can make it happen but it’s been a year and Bruce and I haven’t gotten any closer,” Tony confesses for the first time out loud. He’s known this for a while, as has Bruce. As has Natasha, even if she hasn’t talked about it either. Tony didn’t know Steve was so deep in denial. “Nebula, Rocket and Carol haven’t found anything that can help us either.”

Steve opens his mouth to speak but Tony is quicker than him.

“The universe is immense, yes, but they’ve scoured every last bit of it,” Tony reminds him. “I can’t… I physically can’t stop looking for a way to fix this. I think I’ll die if I stop trying. But the chances of finding a way… A solution… An answer… Steve, you didn’t mean to but you’ve made people believe something that isn't true.”

Steve lets out a painful sounding sob. 

“I don’t think there is a way we can reverse the snap,” Tony admits.

Heartbroken. 

Enraged. 

Pitiful. 

Undeserving. 

Devastated.

Liberated.

Tony feels everything and nothing all at once. 

_I don’t think there is a way we can reverse the snap._

This is the most honest Tony has been like in a year, not only with Steve but with himself. 

 _I lost Peter and I’m never getting him back,_ Tony pronounces for the first time in the confines of his own mind.

Steve’s chair squeaks unpleasantly against the tiled floor when he pushes it back and stands up abruptly. His hand rips away from Tony’s hands, leaving them hovering awkwardly in the air. 

Steve’s face looks red with excerption and his cheeks are wet from tears that keep pouring out of his eyes desperately. His nose is running and he is breathing noisily and heavily. 

“Steve,” Tony begs, not sure what he is begging for. 

The conversation has taken such a turn it’s almost dizzying. This was supposed to become a fight, if anything. A heated argument rooted in Steve’s irresponsibly made statements to the public that have put the Avengers in an uncomfortable situation, in a precarious state.

Instead the talk has opened Steve up in a way Tony couldn’t have predicated. It’s like Steve’s ribcage has been forced open and Tony can see inside him without Steve’s consent. 

Tony, Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey. Even Pepper Tony knows, even though they haven't been talking that much lately. They’ve all been slowly but surely accepting the facts. 

But not Steve. 

Steve has been holding on so tightly to a loosely balanced rope, a rope that kept rotting no matter how much Steve ignored the signs. 

He’s been holding onto unfounded expectations and they’ve all just shattered in his hands from how tightly he was squeezing them.

“Steve,” Tony repeats, this time more an apology. 

Steve turns around and walks out the kitchen before Tony can even blink once.

 


	5. chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Chapter 6 might take a little longer to get here because I have another project I'm planning on writing in September. Thank you so much for your patience, and your support and all the love you're giving this fic. It means the world <3

He’s at the bottom of the ocean. 

It’s dark, it’s cold and it’s wet. It could just as well be the cave in Afghanistan but Tony knows it isn’t. He knows the cave in Afghanistan like the back of his hand, like a piece of his own soul, both from the dragging months he spent there and from the revisiting he has done in his imagination throughout the later years. This isn’t the cave in Afghanistan, it’s the bottom of the ocean. And it’s swallowing him whole.

His mind has always been able to conjure up the weirdest of sensations, the strangest and deepest fears Tony never even knows he has in the first place. The bottom of the ocean, for example. Tony hadn't even been aware of it being a possible issue for him but here he is, feeling stuck like it’s really happening, like this is really the one thing that’s going to kill him. 

This is his downfall. Nothing else has killed him before but this will. 

He’s at the bottom of the ocean and he has no oxygen tank, no strength left to swim back to the surface. There is no rescue boat coming for him. In fact. no one knows he’s there in the first place. 

He’s at the bottom of the ocean, drowning, and for a second Tony slips and thinks “ _Just let it be over._ ”

It feels too close to giving up but Tony feels like he can't do it any longer. It’s just too much for him.

And it’s not even about him, not really -although there is a bit of that in it too-.

It’s about Steve.

_I don’t think there is a way we can reverse the snap._

With those words -just those 12 words- Tony is sure he has most likely broken a part of Steve’s soul that will never be put back together again.

The thought makes him drop his head in his hands and bury his fingers in his hair, pulling so harshly for a few seconds that he feels tears gather behind his closed eyelids because of the pain. 

The tears aren’t just about that, but Tony finds that having an excuse for them is better than admitting the real deal.

The kitchen is so silent it feels eerie and Tony misses the sound of Steve’s labored breathing. If Tony breathes loudly enough he can imagine Steve is still sitting right in front of him but the minute he opens his eyes the fantasy shatters. 

Dropping his hands from his hair, Tony rests them on the table, extended in front of him and reaching for the ghost of where Steve was. But there is nothing there. 

In less than a second an intrusive thought slithers its way into Tony’s mind and kicks the air out of his lungs. The image of Peter disintegrating in his arms mixes with the image of Steve’s face dusting slowly as he looks up at Tony from his place laying on a dirty floor. Tony knows it isn't real but there is still the tiny part inside of him that feels the image as if it was. It’s like having his heart ripped out of his chest and Tony stands on wobbly knees from his place at the table.

The image quickly leaves his mind but a thousand others replace it almost instantly: coming back from space and exiting the ship only to find no one waiting for him; Natasha coming in after the team went out to search for Thanos and telling him Steve is dead; Pepper and Rhodey turning their backs on him; Peter smiling; Steve full of dust that Tony knows it’s all from Sam, Bucky and Wanda. Thanos laughing. Thanos snapping his fingers. Thanos making Tony snap his fingers.

It’s torture and it’s a torture so poignant and so perfectly designed for him that it can obviously only come from his own mind.

Tony’s arms are stretched and his hands are grabbing the edge of the kitchen table to help him keep his balance. His head is hanging down as if in shame but it’s mostly just exhaustion. He feels it down in his bones, a weariness so heavy it’s harder to carry than the Iron Man suit when it goes offline. The added pounds come from all the years, the fights, the betrayals, the failed relationships, the bottles of alcohol, the people he’s had to watch die, the people he's had to kill. 

Nothing ever leaves him, it all stays with him. 

He’s never talked to any of them about this before but he knows this is one more thing all the Avengers carry. It’s one more thing they all share. They’ve built themselves up from everything they’ve ever had to see and do and think, and most everyone thinks them strong for it but in the end it also makes them more vulnerable. 

Steve has most definitely made his all of these things -the Decimation, the devastation, the losses, the hope, the reversal- and it has crashed and burned around him. But he won’t be able to let it go. It will just become one more layer of who Steve Rogers is and he will carry it forever. 

Tony raises his head and looks in the direction of the kitchen exit pondering about the abruptness of Steve’s departure. There are few places where Steve could have headed after leaving, only a handful of places where he feels completely safe and could have gone to protect himself, to stitch the broken pieces of his soul back together.

Tony feels restless with the need to follow Steve, to catch up with him and help in anyway he can. 

He knows these are the kind of things both of them have been working through in their respective therapeutic journeys. 

The few group sessions they’ve attended together have been centered around discussions of grief and acceptance, Tony having noticed in each one of them the careful maneuvering around any ideas of reestablishing the past but also of moving on towards the future. It’s like most of the people were trying to live while suspended in an ambiguous limbo of time. Not quite the past and not quite the future.

In his personal sessions with his psychologist, however, Tony has been more decisive without ever fully vocalizing the thought. The questions were a little more direct, the exercises in recovery a little more self-aware. _How can one be happy when so many people are gone? How can one stop blaming themselves for pushing forward? How do we make life continue while getting used to the change?_

Now, Tony wonders if those are the same type of things Steve has been asking himself during therapy. Or if, perhaps, even in the safest of spaces Steve could have found, he had still been living in that nebulous nothing, in that standstill of a life. 

All those things are personal, Tony knows this. The mere idea of sharing even a small smidge of his therapy sessions with anyone who’s not his therapist makes Tony want to burn down his brain and all the information inside it. He knows Steve must feel the same way about it. 

But he remembers a conversation before they both found the strength to seek help, a conversation where they both promised each other things that Tony knows, unlike Steve’s promises to the public during his speech, they could be capable of maintaining. 

They’re supposed to help each other. And that means that, some times, things are going to get ugly and difficult for one of them and the other will have to dirty himself up to push the other one through. 

This is most definitely one of those moments. 

This is the time where Tony helps Steve.

It’s a simple confirmation, something that Tony knew but he needed to fully and wholly accept inside him. The minute he does the pain that had settled hard on his stomach lessens. It doesn’t disappear completely but it dissipates enough that it leaves space for other feelings in its place. 

Determination in the middle of his chest.

Urgency in the tip of his fingers.

Tony wants to find Steve and share with him the pain he must be going through. There is no magic solution to this, no simple way and no easy moving on from what Steve has had to experience today but Tony hopes his presence will soften the blow. 

Tony leaves the kitchen in search of Steve with the same determination that he had felt when he left his room earlier on when going to meet Steve in the kitchen.

His steps take him to Steve’s room first where he encounters a closed door. 

Tony knocks softly but firmly on the door and brings his ear closer to the wood to try and catch any response that could come from the inside of the room. Tony doesn't hear anything but he’s unsure if that is because there is nothing to be heard. He brings his hand to the doorknob and turns it carefully until the door opens. Tony doesn't open the door fully, just enough to be able to look inside the room, towards the bed and then the desk. There is no one there and there is no sign that Steve has been here before during the evening.

Tony closes the door again and he turns his back on it, resting against it for a second as he takes a calming breath. 

His thoughts are moving a thousand miles per second, theories and conjectures and plans already taking shape in his head. One persistent thought keeps making itself known, stretching and taking space up in Tony’s brain in full technicolor. 

Tony frowns at the idea but he’s learned to trust his gut so he separates his back from Steve’s bedroom door and starts walking with a destination in mind again. 

He forgoes taking the elevator for once and uses the stairs to get to the lower level of the main building and in just a little over a minute Tony finds himself in front of the glass walls of his workshop, a place so familiar and comfortable to him it feels like he’s never even left it each time he returns. 

It is, without a doubt, the biggest and most important of his safe spaces. 

There is surprise and there is predictability in seeing Steve through the glass. He’s sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room, DUM-E, Butterfingers and U surrounding him.

The minute Tony’s eyes set on Steve there is a feeling of serendipity tying around its heart. This is Tony’s safest space and it seems likely that it is one of Steve’s safest spaces too. 

Tony takes a couple of steps forward and brings himself closer to the glass walls but he makes no move to enter the room yet. He doesn't want to stay outside much longer while Steve is unaware of his presence because that seems like prying on a very private moment but he wants to make sure that he doesn't take Steve completely by surprise and unsettles him.

It takes about 20 seconds for Steve to raise his head a little bit from where he had been looking at the floor and Tony thinks this is probably the best moment to make his presence known. Steve seems a little more alert than only seconds before and that’s what gets Tony acting. 

He raps his knuckles on the glass door of his workshop in the same manner that he had done so on Steve’s door, but this time safe on the knowledge that Steve is here. 

Steve turns his waist so his torso and his head face the direction of the sound. His eyes find Tony’s rapidly and even from this distance Tony can make out Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. 

Steve doesn’t say anything at all, not that Tony would have heard him through the soundproofing of the workshop. He beckons Tony closer with his right hand as DUM-E starts approaching the door.

Tony opens the door and nearly has his feet run over by DUM-E’s wheels in his excitement. Steve chuckles slightly from his place with the other bots when Tony stumbles a little trying to avoid bumping into DUM-E.

“Hey, boy” Tony greets his bot while he pets him on his claw. “Careful there.”

DUM-E seems content with the gesture and he goes back to his previous position next to Steve. Steve, for his part, is getting to his feet slowly, having to maneuver a little bit around the movements of the bots but not motioning them away. 

“Hey,” Steve greets Tony. 

His voice is nothing more than a whisper. His face is dry but the redness and puffiness of his eyes is a telltale sign of his previous crying. He isn’t smiling but his face presents a softness that wasn't there before in the kitchen. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Tony says as he walks closer to Steve. He stops once he’s only a few feet away from him, enough so that Butterfingers can wheel back and forth between them as they speak. 

“This is your workshop,” Steve states. “You can come down here whenever you want.”

“You can come down here whenever you want, too,” Tony says. “If you want me to go you only have to say so.”

Steve breaks his gaze away from Tony’s and looks around the room, his eyes seemingly analyzing little details here and there. 

There are two different sketchbooks in the room, one on the workbench with two pencil cases and a case of coals resting on it and another one on the couch, looking as if it had been thrown haphazardly there. 

One of Steve’s favorite leather jackets is hanging on a hook he placed there himself a couple of months ago. Back then Steve had said Tony’s coats and jackets didn't deserve the treatment of being thrown all over the place in whatever manner so he had bought the little white sticky hooks they sell on hardware stores and had installed them in under 10 seconds.These days the hooks are mostly used by Steve for his own outerwear or for the moments he gets exasperated when  visiting Tony and tidies up his clothes from all over the workshop.

There is also a book Tony is sure isn’t his resting on top of one of the low set of drawers, a pair of Steve’s sunglasses next to some SI documents Tony has yet to sign and the room smells distinctly like the incense sticks Bruce recommended to Steve and that he is now obsessed with. 

Sure enough, when Tony looks to the side towards the less cluttered part of his workshop he can spot one of the sticks burning away slowly and only emitting a very faint trail of smoke. Steve is always very adamant about not placing the incense anywhere near what he considers to be dangerous surroundings even though Tony has told him a million times that the chances of there ever being a fire in his workshop are slim to none. 

Tony studies these little bits and pieces of life as Steve does as well and it’s impossible to deny that Steve has made a home for himself down here too. 

Tony wasn’t lying when he said Steve has as much claim to this place in his head as he does and if Steve isn't ready for Tony to be here yet he’ll leave, no matter how important he thinks tackling these issues together at the moment is. 

The first thing Tony wants is for Steve to be comfortable for now. The rest can come after. 

Steve ends his appraisal of the room and looks back over to Tony, who is still patiently waiting for a cue. 

Steve clears his throat and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. 

“You can stay,” Steve says. “I want you to.”

Tony nods and something shapes itself back together inside his chest. He gives Steve a small smile and moves towards the couch, territory that is normally Steve’s but that for whatever reason feels right at the moment. 

Before he sits down on the couch he gently picks up the sketchbook that’s sitting there and moves it towards a low coffee table next to the sofa. He sits down leaving enough space to his right so that Steve can sit down next to him if he chooses to, but he doesn't verbalize any request or offer to him. 

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Tony announces as he clasps his hands together in front of him.

Steve shrugs and focuses his gaze on his feet.

“Things got a little out of hand in the kitchen and I didn’t want to leave them like that,” Tony says. 

Steve starts moving towards the couch, a little hesitantly, Tony notices. He sits down very close to to the left armrest, leaving ample space between his body and Tony’s. It feels cold and wrong to Tony but he doesn’t push the issue and he remains seated where he is.

“I’m sorry,” Steve blurts unexpectedly. 

Tony frowns. “Wha— What?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeats his apology. “About the speech, about what I said. Natasha was right when she said I wasn’t thinking clearly. I know you think that too and you’re also right.”

“Yeah,” Tony confirms with a small nod of his head. “But that’s not really what I came here to talk about.”

“I thought you were angry,” Steve says. 

“I was. Still am, maybe, a little bit,” Tony recognizes. “You were reckless and you acted on your own without any input from anyone else on the team. That’s something we need to discuss. But that’s not the root of the problem here.”

“So what is?” Steve asks. He sounds resigned, like he already knows the answer to his own question but he doesn't want it said out loud.

“I don’t think there is a way we can reverse the snap,” Tony repeats for the second time that afternoon although the sentence has been rattling around in his brain a million times in the past hour. 

This time his voice sounds softer, kinder. He’s not so much trying to make a statement but trying to apologize for his failings. He’s baring his soul to the universe and giving away the last part of his past self he still had kept hidden. 

“That’s what I think the root of the problem is,” Tony says. 

Steve lets out a tired scoff. “Yeah, I guess.”

A new tear is threatening to leave the corner of Steve’s right eye but he wipes it away with the tip of his index finger before it can roll down any further. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Tony says. 

Steve finally turns back to him, although only with his head. His body is still facing forwards, creating an invisible barrier between him and Tony. 

“What? What are you apologizing for?” Steve asks incredulously. 

Tony shrugs and smiles dejectedly at Steve. “There is no way I can fix the snap. If that isn’t something deserving of an apology I don’t know what is.”

“No, no,” Steve says emphatically. “That isn’t your fault, Tony.”

This is the moment Steve finally turns his body completely and faces Tony. It feels like this is when, at last, Steve opens himself up during this whole evening, since the conversation in the kitchen to this moment happening right here and now. He was closed-off before, Tony knew, but it’s only obvious just how much he was holding himself back now that the dam has opened and all of Steve is pouring out.

It’s not as raw and devastating as his breakdown when Tony finally broke the truth to him, but even then there was something unsettling about the way Steve was tiptoeing around his words and actions. 

This is softer, a little bit more honest and 100% pure Steve Rogers. 

“You can’t feel guilty about this. I know how much you work every day to change the way things are. I know how much it means to you,” Steve says. “This isn’t your fault. If…If we can’t reverse the snap… If we can’t fix the Decimation… I won’t let you think you failed at this.”

Tony feels it then. Something breaking and reshaping itself. 

“This isn’t about me,” Tony says. 

And it is the truth, it isn’t about him. Maybe it is another item in the long list of things Steve and Tony need to discuss and come to terms with, but right now it’s not what the conversation should be about. This conversation is all about Steve, because Steve deserves conversations to be about him and his feelings and his experiences.

And yet, talking about himself had Steve closing off, pulling away and hiding himself away from Tony. Hiding his face, his reactions, himself. It had him literally running away the minute something came spilling out of him in the kitchen.

Now that for one second, and by a simple slip, the conversation has turned to Tony Steve is finally opening up, like a rose in bloom. Tony showed his own insecurity at Steve, even if he hadn't meant to, and Steve didn’t hesitate and was there ready to catch him. 

It’s something that has stayed unspoken for a long time and finally starts to whisper its way to life. 

Steve can spend forever ignoring his needs, his feelings, his weaknesses. Steve can spend forever ignoring himself. But Steve never, not even for a second, ignores Tony and anything that might have to do with him. 

A simultaneous warm and cold feeling attacks Tony’s chest at the realization.

There is nothing in the world like knowing Steve is on his corner like that, so loyal and devoted. Tony just wants the opportunity to show he can do the same for Steve. He needs Steve to let him. 

“I appreciate everything you’re saying. It means more than I can possibly say. But this isn’t about my guilt or my self-blame,” Tony clarifies. “Believe me, I am working on that. I want to talk about how you’re feeling. I want you to explain to me what you’re thinking.”

Steve purses his lips and moves his eyes away from Tony’s. He keeps his body facing towards Tony and that feels like a hard-earned victory in itself. 

30 seconds go by and Steve doesn't say anything. He’s got his hands on his lap and he is wringing his fingers together almost aggressively, cracking all his knuckles until they all stop making a sound when he bends and presses them.

“I know it’s difficult,” Tony whispers, feeling like it is important that he doesn't disturb the stillness of the moment. “You once asked me for time, months ago, and I’ve been giving it to you. But it’s been a year and… You need to talk to me.”

Another silence stretches all around them and this time Tony can’t find the words to break it. He doesn’t want to push harder because he doesn't know what Steve’s breaking point is for this. But he doesn’t want to leave things in this state, he needs them to finally move forward. 

“I think I knew that there was no way for us to reverse the snap.”

Steve’s voice startles Tony when it finally says something but in less than a millisecond Tony focuses all of his attention on it. He knows the significance of these words, he knows what Steve says can change a lot of things in their future. 

“I mean, I didn’t _know,_ but I maybe suspected. I just… I was deep in denial. Still am, a little, not going to lie,” Steve explains ruefully. 

It’s nothing Tony couldn’t have figured out on his own, it’s not an Earth shattering revelation, but it is of major importance just the same. 

“I don’t want it to be true. I don’t want this to be the way things are,” Steve confesses and the words sound rough and low in his voice. “I’ve accepted that it isn’t our fault, my therapist can’t quite believe it but I have.”

Tony chuckles softly and Steve looks at him from the corner of his eye, his lips upturning slightly before he turns back to look at some undefined point in the opposite wall.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t spend hours and hours everyday thinking of what we could have done differently. What if I had listened to you? What if we had all fought together? What if Carol had been there with us? What if… Just so many what ifs.”

It seems like now that Steve has started speaking he can’t stop himself from pouring it all out and Tony relinquishes in the downpour and works hard on not missing even a single comma. 

“Some of them are different, sometimes. Not so much about changing how things went with Thanos but just how things went in general. What if I had found Bucky sooner? What if I had told you the truth about your parents? What if I hadn’t dragged Sam into all of this?”

Steve sighs and he’s started crying again. His voice keeps being steady, however, and his breathing doesn’t change. There are just tears falling steadily from his eyes as there are words falling from his lips. 

“There are a lot of things I regret doing and a lot of things I regret not doing. I guess the idea of never having the opportunity to make amends is what’s so difficult to accept. And today I kept thinking how millions of people won’t have the opportunity to do so many things too, either because they’re gone or because someone important to them is. My grief blinded me, and I just thought maybe I could make people feel better so they wouldn't have to feel like I did. But I fucked up.”

Tony can’t take the separation any longer and, with a little trepidation because he doesn't want Steve to pull away or stop talking, he reaches over and takes one of Steve’s hands in his. 

Steve doesn't move his head but he squeezes Tony’s hand almost hard enough to hurt until he relents his strength and just holds tight enough that Tony feels grounded and he hopes Steve does too. 

“So many times I’ve thought that we could turn this around, that we were meant to,” Steve explains. “I mean, we’re still here, Tony.”

Slowly, Steve’s head turns to the right and he meets Tony’s eyes.

“You and me. Natasha, Bruce, Thor, Clint. The Avengers, we’re still here. What if that means something?”

“The Decimation was random,” Tony reminds him. “There was no science or order to it.”

“I know,” Steve assures him with a nod. “But in my head… In my head I just can’t shake the idea that there was some sort of fate to it. And I know, I know. Fate. What a stupid thing to believe in considering our lives. But what was the point then? What’s the point of us still being here?”

Steve’s question halts Tony, making him swallow against the bitter taste of copper in the back of his throat. It’s a question Tony has asked himself countless times since Titan. 

“I don’t know,” Tony confesses. “I have absolutely no idea. You think I don’t ask myself that every day? Why am I here? Why not Peter? Why is it me instead of him?”

“Why me instead of Sam?” Steve wonders himself. “Why me instead of Bucky?”

“I don’t have an answer for us and I bet every single person on Earth has asked themselves this at least once,” Tony says. “We didn't choose this. No one did. And we’ve tried to remedy it but… Maybe it’s time for new questions. They’ll be even harder to answer but I think it’s time.”

“Like what? What questions?” Steve asks.

“How does life go on without them? How do we help the people that are still here to create a new future?” Tony pauses and he takes a breathe. 

He pulls on the hand that is holding Steve’s and brings it over to his chest, resting the back of Steve’s hand against where the arc reactor sits when it’s hooked to his chest. 

“How do we move on?” Tony concludes and a sob escapes Steve’s throat. 

“How?” Steve asks, despair and desperation leaking from his voice. 

Tony shakes his head repeatedly and taps his chest with Steve’s hand twice. He shrugs and moves his free hand to wipe the tears from under Steve’s eyes. 

“Together, maybe?” Tony ventures. “I really have no idea.” 

Steve’s crying stops being silent then and his sobs seem to echo off the walls of the workshop. DUM-E, Butterfingers and U have stopped playing whatever game it was they had been busy with before at the loud noise but they don’t move closer to Tony and Steve. 

Tony uses the hand that was cleaning Steve’s tears to cup his cheek and bring Steve’s face closer to his. He rests his forehead against Steve’s forehead, and now their bodies are so close Tony can bodily feel the quakes going through Steve’s muscles. 

“I’m so sorry,” Tony whispers in the space between their faces. His tears have started falling as well. “I wish I could give you something more than this.”

Steve’s sobs quieten slightly after Tony speaks and even though his features are blurry from so close Tony can tell Steve’s eyes are raking through his face, almost as if committing him to memory. 

“I wish I could give you something more than this, too,” Steve murmurs. 

 

 _______________________________

 

Tony can’t tell how long they spend in that same position, forehead against forehead, bodies posed together, their hands clasped and resting on Tony’s chest. It feels like minutes and it feels like eons but in no moment does it ever become uncomfortable. 

It’s perhaps the only thing keeping both of them whole and Tony isn’t going to begrudge himself of the relative peace that sharing this with Steve brings him. He also won’t take it away from Steve. 

Steve is the first one to move but he doesn't completely separate from Tony. His hand stays clasped in Tony’s and his free one moves to Tony’s knee, resting there unobtrusively. His eyes are closed and his brow is set in a deep frown like he’s deep in thought or concentrating on something. 

When he opens his eyes the blue of them seems almost multiplied, like all the tears he cried cleaned away a layer of dust that had been accumulating there for months. 

“I’m so tired,” Steve pronounces suddenly. 

Such a short sentence can have so many different meanings, Tony knows, and he’s got a feeling that Steve is more than aware as well of the ambiguousness of his statement. The words are said rather solemnly and a little abruptly after the silence that had accompanied them before. 

Perhaps it’s Tony’s own literal tiredness making him a little delirious but Tony can’t contain the laugh that escapes his lips at Steve’s words.

“You do look a little wrecked, Captain,” Tony teases. 

Steve moves his hand away from Tony’s knee to make a fist and rub at his left eye. The action makes him look years younger than he actually is, it even makes him look a little innocent and small no matter how imposing his wide body actually is. 

It’s like the exhaustion is exposing all of Steve’s weakest points to the world and Tony is growing compelled to act as a buffer between him and the rest of the world so no one can take advantage of him in this situation. He’s had this kind of thoughts before, thoughts of not wanting Steve hurt or wanting to protect him but there is a depth to them in this moment that is a little unfamiliar to Tony. 

Tony shakes his head a little bit as Steve responds to his comment but he hasn’t heard what Steve has just said and Steve is looking back at him questioningly.

“Sorry,” Tony says. “I didn’t catch that, I guess I am very tired, too.”

Steve smiles softly at him. “I said, would you mind walking me to my room?”

“Oh, sure,” Tony replies instantly and Steve starts getting to his feet as soon as he hears Tony’s response. 

With the hand that is still holding Tony’s Steve pulls, but not harshly enough to hurt Tony or stretch his shoulder too much, just enough to encourage Tony to move and get him to his feet.

Before they leave the workshop Steve makes sure to stop by the bots and bid them a goodnight. The bots all line up and get the closest thing that can resemble a hug for them from Steve. 

Tony rolls his eyes at the scene but he knows he doesn't do a very good job of hiding his joy at Steve’s natural way of interacting with his bots. Pepper and Rhodey have both known the bots for years and they’ve gone out of their way to play with them once or twice but Steve treats them in the way Tony knows he does. Like they’re more than what they look. Like they’re human no matter how non-human they appear to be.

The door of the workshop opens for them without them having to touch it and then closes behind them as soon as they step outside. This proves FRIDAY has been keeping an eye on them the whole evening even if she hasn't interjected at any time. 

Steve and Tony walk to Steve’s room relaxedly and in silence. They’re not in any rush and they're both feeling each and every minute of their day so their steps are short and drowsy. 

It’s only when they’re already standing in front of Steve’s door that Tony notices they haven’t stopped holding hands since they got up from the couch. The realization makes Tony hyper-aware of the feel of Steve’s hands on his now. Steve’s palm and his fingertips are surprisingly soft and Tony feels a pang of self-consciousness. His own hands are rough and calloused from years of manual labour and it’s been a long time since he’s made efforts to pamper them or anything resembling a care routine. 

Steve turns to look at him with his free hand already turning the knob. By the confused frown that has appeared on his face Tony knows he must have felt the way Tony’s hands has started twitching in his. Feeling awkward Tony disentangles his hand from Steve’s although Steve holds on to it a few seconds too long after Tony starts trying to pull away. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks Tony. 

He hasn’t yet opened his bedroom door but his body is still half turned as if he was just about to walk inside it. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Tony reassures him. “Just letting you go get some rest now.”

“Oh,” Steve murmurs as his hand falls from the knob.

His shoulders drop almost inappreciably and his head hangs down a little.

“I thought, maybe, I mean, you…” Steve stumbles upon his words until he takes a deep breath and looks intensely into Tony’s eyes. “I don’t feel like being alone yet.”

Tony blinks slowly a few times trying to process Steve’s words correctly. “You… You want me to come in?”

The sentence is phrased like a question but Tony isn’t sure if he’s making sure that is Steve’s desire or is he is asking for permission. 

“Yes,” Steve exhales. “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t waste anytime opening the door to his room and ushering Tony inside. It gives Tony no time to get nervous or insecure because before he can consciously realize it he is inside Steve’s room and taking a seat on the very edge of his bed. 

For a minute things are a thousand times more uncomfortable than they have been between them all evening. Tony’s seated down and Steve’s still standing, positioned a few feet in front of Tony, his hand supporting the weight of his body as it rests against a set of drawers. The position is supposed to look relaxed and casual but Tony can tell how unnatural it is, how unlike anything Steve would ever do if he was comfortable at all. 

“So…” Tony pronounces, extending the vowel in the word. “You want to talk some more or…?”

Steve clears his throat and shakes his head slightly. “I think I’m all talked out for the day.”

Tony nods and almost lets out a sigh of relief. He would have talked if that was what Steve needed but it feels good knowing he can forget about things a little bit for the night. Everything will still be there in the morning tomorrow so a little overnight avoidance won’t hurt anyone or change anything for the worse.

“I’m actually dying to get in the shower,” Steve comments as he tugs on the neckline of the dress shirt he’s still wearing.

At some point before Tony made it down to the workshop Steve unbuttoned three of the top buttons of the shirt but other than that and the roughness that still shows in his face he looks just as put together as he did earlier in the day during the memorial. 

“Well, that _is_ something you will have to do alone,” Tony jokes, trying to hide his abashment at the comment. 

He moves his eyes away from the slow roaming of Steve’s body they had been doing and focuses his gaze on his feet instead. He’s only wearing socks and for a second that feels oddly intimate considering that he’s sitting on Steve’s bed. 

“I—Yes, I— What?“ Steve stutters the question as his face begins to get an unmistakable blush.

The color is different from the redness that had been there before from the crying. This time it’s a little more subtle, more pink than red, it looks softer on Steve’s features. Tony prefers this color a lot better than the one before. 

“You said before you didn’t want to be alone but I don’t think I can help you with the shower thing,” Tony explains his comment and feels as though it has lost any minimum amusement it might have had if Steve had understood it from the start.

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Steve murmurs, prolonging the second vowel sound. “No, no, of course. You can… I mean… I’d like you to wait here so I don’t have to be alone after. That’s what I meant. Not that you should come into the shower. I mean, obviously you’ve already showered. Not that if you hadn’t I would’ve—”

“It’s okay,” Tony interrupts, trying to spare Steve the pain of tangling himself up more on his words. And also trying to spare himself further blushing than the one he can already feel growing on his cheeks. “I know what you meant.”

Steve exhales loudly at Tony’s words, like a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. 

“I’ll wait here” Tony concedes. 

It’s really difficult to deny Steve anything when he looks this vulnerable, this open and trusting. 

Steve nods and, without any other word, starts walking backwards to the bathroom. He points at Tony with the index finger of his right hand and then over his shoulder at the bathroom door with his thumb. Tony nods back at him before Steve closes the bathroom door abruptly while still facing in Tony’s direction. 

Tony doesn’t have his phone with him and he doesn't have a tablet or computer to keep him distracted either. For a minute he debates taking Steve’s but he realizes how unfair to Steve’s privacy that would be and also, he most likely has a code that while Tony most likely could guess he’s too tired to put thought into. 

After a couple minutes, when the sound of the shower can finally be heard through the closed door, Tony’s still in the same position as when Steve left. His hands have started moving back and forth, caressing the duvet that covers Steve’s bed. It’s a baby blue color and it’s very soft. The motion and the feeling is relaxing Tony, whose head blissfully stops overthinking everything that happened today and just gives into the sensation. 

Tony lets himself lay down on the bed without thinking too much about it when the clock on Steve’s bedside table tells him Steve has been gone for ten minutes. He rests his back against the decorative pillows places upon the headboard and stretches his legs in front of him. 

He drums the fingers of his left hand against his thigh and tries to stay awake by singing several AC/CD songs to himself. He gets through “You Shook Me All Night Long” but loses track of things around the second verse of “Cold Hearted Man”.

He’s asleep before the clock can tell him Steve’s gone for exactly eighteen minutes. 

He wakes up disoriented when he feels himself being moved but he’s too groggy to open his eyes fully. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Go back to sleep, Tony.”

Tony would recognize that voice anywhere and it relaxes him enough to settle back into the bed. He only has time to notice that this time he’s completely laid down and tucked in before he falls asleep again. 

 

_______________________________

 

The first sensation Tony feels upon waking up is warmth. 

His eyes are still closed but through the grogginess that still clings to his mind he makes an effort to move his arms. His whole body feels overheated and the minute Tony manages to get his arms free of the covers it feels like instant relief. The cool air feels nice on his hands and some of it makes its way through his sleeves, and down his torso. 

Tony opens his eyes and then closes them again immediately when the brightness of the room hits him full force. Based upon the light it must already be past 7 in the morning and Tony is confused. FRIDAY always regulates the amount of light that passes through his bedroom windows and she knows he prefers to sleep surrounded by total darkness. He never needs to tell her to make the glass in the windows opaque, she always does it on her own. 

He clears his throat to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation of dryness on the back of it. He’s about to inquire to FRIDAY about the light when he feels the bed move without him causing it. 

Now that he’s more aware and more awake he can feel the distinctive weight of someone else sharing the bed with him. It’s in the way the mattress is sunk a little bit behind him and it’s in the way the covers rise and fall lightly even if he stops moving and breathing. It’s also the way he now realizes the extra heat comes from sharing a bed with someone else. 

The memories come to him in less than a millisecond. It is definitely proof that he’s finally completely awake and alert.

He was in Steve’s room last night when he went to take a shower and, just for a minute, he had decided to lay down and rest for a while. He promptly guesses he must have fallen asleep right there and never made it back to his room. A quick sweep over the room with his eyes confirms his suspicions. 

He doesn't need to ask FRIDAY for the time because only turning his head a bit to the left puts the alarm clock on one of the bedside tables in his field of vision. Tony squints a little as he looks at it. 

7:35 AM.

Tony decides to turn his body to try and get a glimpse behind him when just turning his head does nothing to help. He moves very slowly and carefully, first turning his waist and then getting his legs to follow. Finally he rotates his shoulders to rest his weight on the left one instead of on the right. When he stops moving he finds himself in the exact same position he was in before only this time facing in the opposite direction. 

Steve’s face is the first thing Tony notices.

Steve is laying on the same manner that Tony is, their knees almost at the same height, one of his arms tucked under a pillow, the other on it, close to his face. He is close enough to Tony’s body than when Tony had been turned the other way they would have been almost -but not quite- spooning. 

Steve’s breathing through his mouth and although it’s not a very loud action in the silence of the room it feels clattering. 

It’s incredible how this is the first time Tony has seen Steve look so still. Of the two of them no one would think of Steve as the restless and anxious one, but the truth is Steve has just as much of a problem with being motionless as Tony. His eagerness is less obvious than Tony’s and it sometimes just comes across in the micro-movements of his face. 

Now, though, Steve lays completely still except for the rise and fall of his chest. 

Tony isn’t sure how long he stays there, just looking at him. 

It’s been a very long time since Tony’s let himself linger after waking up in the morning. 

Most mornings he wakes up feeling the need to move and do something almost immediately. He’s never particularly needed a lot of rest and when he was younger he was very good at running on little to no sleep. These days it has more to do with how repose calls to grief for him. The minutes Tony spends not doing something are minutes when a thousand unwanted thoughts can make their way into his head and Tony’s become proficient at avoidance. Staying in bed does him no good, especially when the other side of it always stays empty. Every morning. Every night. 

There is none of that this morning. 

Looking at Steve feels like an oasis. Laying with him and just remaining there basking in the moment feels a little bit like freedom. 

It surprises Tony when he realizes he’s drifted in and out of consciousness a couple of times. He doesn’t fully fall asleep but he loses time and his train of thought enough that he’s not aware of when Steve wakes up. 

The third or fourth time Tony opens his eyes he finds Steve already looking back at him. He hasn't moved at all but his eyes are blinking lazily as his gaze is focused on Tony’s face. 

When Steve notices Tony’s awake his lips curl up and he offers him a slow smile. 

“Hey,” Steve greets him. “Good morning.”

Tony licks his chapped lips and swallows to wet his throat and unclog it. Steve’s eyes follow both movements as they happen, first setting on Tony’s lips and then roaming over to his throat to finally move back where they had been before, Tony’s eyes. 

“Morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you last night,” Tony apologizes. 

His voice sounds gravelly as he speaks and he wishes he didn’t need to move to get a glass of cool water. 

Steve shakes his head against the pillow. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to be alone and I wasn’t. You were there.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, but I wasn’t very good company.”

“You’re always good company, Tony.”

Steve looks earnest and in the early morning light the compliment hits Tony a little more intensely than it normally would. Knowing Steve felt comforted by his mere presence -even when he wasn’t actively working to help- is an honor Tony never knew would be this great to hold. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Tony murmurs. 

It’s a weak reply to Steve’s honest praise but Tony is experiencing some trouble forming coherent and meaningful thoughts. It’s Steve’s gaze and his words and the way they’re still laying so close to each other. It’s astonishing and yet so right. 

A little less than year ago Tony was waking up to Steve crying on him, resting his head dejectedly on his bed and letting Tony see him at his lowest. But in that moment Tony doesn't think Steve was making a conscious choice to trust Tony with his everything. The pain was so overwhelming Steve’s defenses had obviously given way and had not been able to withstand the blows any longer. He had simply broken down and there had been nothing he could have done about it. 

Now, in this bed, Steve is knowingly and deliberately letting Tony in. 

It’s scary, so terrifying to think Tony can do something to fuck this up. 

Steve moves unexpectedly but he doesn’t go very far. He just turns on his back and laces his hand on his stomach as his eyes settle on the ceiling. The intensity of his gaze would have anyone thinking the secrets of the universe reside in the white cement above him. 

“Growing up I only had one friend… Bucky,” Steve says and Tony’s breath catches on his throat. 

This is it and Tony knows as soon as it starts. This is the last piece that Steve was keeping to himself finally coming out in the open. 

“There were other kids we sometimes played with or hung out with but… That was mainly because they liked Bucky. Or just convenience, maybe, because they lived closed to us. No one came around, and even less so stayed around, because of me.”

Steve turns his head, the right side of it half hidden in the pillow, to look back at Tony. 

“It means a lot that you stay around, Tony. That you really do think I’m good company.”

“Steve…” Tony murmurs but Steve turns his head to the ceiling again looking embarrassed.

“Sam was a really good friend, too,” Steve comments. “Maybe the first one I made all on my own since Buck. I mean, you, Natasha, the Avengers… Before we were truly friends we were co-workers so there was something there that bound us but… Sam was my friend before anything else. I don’t think I was that good of a friend to him.”

“Hey, no,” Tony chastises as he extends his arm to place his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t say that, I bet Sam didn't think that in the slightest.”

“But it’s true,” Steve reiterates. “I think I kept him at arm’s length for years. There’s so much about him I don’t know and so much I asked of him without ever stopping to thank him. He had a large family, did you know that? He mentioned them a lot, his cousins, uncles and aunts, his grandmother and his parents. I don’t know any of them and I never asked him about them. His mother and his grandmother died in the Decimation but his father is still alive.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“I haven’t been to see him. I’m so scared. And so regretful.”

Tony opens his mouth to talk but he finds himself at a loss for words. There are so many things he wants to say to reassure Steve but they all taste hollow and insignificant in the face of Steve’s disclosure. 

“But there is another reason I haven’t visited him. The same reason I hadn’t talked to you about any of this and the reason I close up every time my therapist wants to talk about anything that has to do with the Decimation. I thought if I didn’t talk about it maybe it wouldn’t come true,” Steve confesses. “It seems illogical because it’s always been true but… If I didn’t say it maybe one day I’d wake up and everything would be back to normal.”

That last part is merely whispered, almost just mouthed. Tony feels his hand trembling and it takes him a couple of seconds to realize he’s not the one shaking; Steve is. It takes him another few seconds to notice Steve is laughing and not crying. 

“That sounds fucking ridiculous when I say it out loud,” Steve says. 

He keeps laughing for about a minute as Tony watches him nervously, out of depth. The only thing he can think to do is bring his hand from Steve’s shoulder to his head. Tony starts stroking Steve’s hair delicately, careful and attentive to any signal that Steve is uncomfortable with it. 

Steve’s laugh is quite obviously frenetic and desperate and Tony is pretty sure there is nothing helpful he can do except be there for Steve and have him know that. 

Touch is always something that has aided Tony in keeping in touch with reality. He craved it as much as he feared it after Afghanistan. He got used to having it regularly when he was with Pepper. He’s used it both as an armor and as a lifesaver. 

He hopes it can be as useful for Steve as he keeps caressing Steve’s silky hair. 

Steve’s laughter starts dying down slowly and soon he goes completely silent. It’s almost as if the sounds he had been making before have been taken far away never to be heard again. 

Steve closes his eyes and moves upwards a little like he’s trying to subtly press into the movements of Tony’s hand. 

“I don’t think there is a way we can reverse the snap,” Steve echoes Tony’s words from yesterday.

“I know,” Tony says as he tucks a strand of Steve’s hair behind his air. It immediately breaks free again. “I know, Steve.”

 

_______________________________

 

Like watching a flower bloom in the middle of a forest, witnessing Steve opening up is a beautiful and awe-inspiring experience. 

It’s a slow process, sometimes so glacial that it feels like nothing is actually changing at all. But it is. If Tony thought he and Steve were learning about each other before this is a whole new level of connection. 

There are things Tony knows both of them have never said out-loud being confessed. There are things Tony knows neither of them have even dared to think about being discussed. 

There is no more barriers between them, no secrets or things left unsaid. 

The day the Avengers’ PR team releases a statement regarding the possible reversal of the snap -or more accurately the almost impossibility of that happening- Steve and Tony spend hours holed up in Tony’s workshop. They stay in silence for long periods of time and when they speak the conversation is at times stilted. Every word seems to drip remorse and Tony and Steve have so much going on in their own minds that it’s difficult for them to find the right words to comfort the other. 

Steve leaves the Compound late in the evening to have an emergency session with his therapist. The fact that he’s willing to face the risk of running into the press while being outside proves how much Steve is really in need of it. 

The minute Tony finds himself alone for the first time in the day he turns on the television and starts seeking the reactions of the world to the metaphorical bomb the Avengers have just dropped on it. 

Tony is surprised to find how unsurprised most people are by the announcement. 

Years ago there would have been extensive and excessive coverage with news like that by the Avengers. There would have been channels praising them and glorifying their every action while other media outlets would have painted them as the true villains of the story. 

Tony in particular has had to deal with experiences like that for all of his adult life. Hell, he even had to deal with things like that before he could even be thought of as a real adult. 

He’s always either been God or Lucifer himself. A savior or a sinner. The solution or the actual problem. 

After he joined the Avengers he came to the realization that they would have to deal with the exact same things.

Now, there is a blatant shift in the way the Avengers are covered and discussed in any kind of media. Or maybe there has just been a shift in the way media works in general as most things have changed in the last year. 

There’s disappointment, of course there is. And blame is thrown around at them a few times. But for the most part the Avengers are a very tiny part of the discussion.

It’s all about the world and the future. In some cases it’s all about the past and the grief. It’s debates on how to move forward, on what things need to improve. It’s discussions on how to honor everyone that’s not coming back and how best to remember them. 

It’s so much like everything that’s been playing for the past year and yet nothing like the TV has ever shown since the Decimation. 

It’s watching the world come to terms with the situation just as Tony has had to watch Steve come to terms with it. Just like he has to come to terms with it himself. 

The Avengers, for better or worse, are not the most important part of the equation. 

Tony tells FRIDAY to turn the television off after an hour and a half of watching it. 

When the TV flickers off he finds himself thrown in the middle of the darkness. The sun has disappeared from the sky in the time Tony was too transfixed by watching TV to notice anything else going on around him. 

He should be feeling calmer now that he’s made sure the storm isn't as severe as it could have been but he still feels unexplainably uneasy. Twitchy, slightly out of control. 

The feeling abates when he receives a text from Steve telling him he’s on his way back to the Compound.

The feeling completely dissipates when Steve makes it back and they go back together to the workshop, this time sharing a few cartons of take out Steve picked up from the city for dinner. The atmosphere is more relaxed, slightly more painless.

For the first time in days Tony dares to feel a little hopeful.

 

_______________________________

 

Clint’s hearings start on an uncharacteristically foggy early May morning.

They’re not actual hearings per se, more like “casual business meetings to go over the issues of Ronin and the possibility of future retributions and consequences”. Or so Natasha says. 

Tony has stayed quiet about the situation for the most part. He’s not sure Natasha or Clint -but most importantly Natasha- would like any contribution he could make. He’s not sure he’s even entitled to make any sort of comment about it, given his past and his own track record, anyway. Sometimes he thinks he came away too unscathed for some of his sins. Other times, more often than not while discussing things with his psychologist in therapy, he thinks he’s probably paid more than enough for them. 

Luckily, the question of how Clint should pay for his own wrongdoings is not up to Tony to decide. 

Only Rhodey and Natasha are actually involved in the process and they’re the only ones included in the discussions and allowed in the meetings. Apart from Clint himself, of course.

Tony knows Steve has been more vocal than him about his opinions to Natasha in a few conversations but he has still stayed mostly out of it as well. Probably not because he’s short on things to say but because of how difficult working through his own things is without adding more things onto his plate. 

It’s complicated. Incredibly complicated. 

Tony doesn’t think there’s anything worthy or useful he can add to the conversation and so he doesn’t participate. 

He always stays within Natasha’s and Rhodey’s orbits, however, both to reassure them and to step in should he feel like it was necessary. They’re two of the most competent people in the world though and don’t really need anything from him apart from his emotional support and friendship, or so they both affirm. 

Bruce ships off to India with one of the charities he used to work with for a couple of weeks. 

Every day that goes by and that Thor doesn’t return his messages or calls he gets more dejected. 

Tony himself tries to call Valkyrie and hatch a plan with her but his attempts are just as unsuccessful as Bruce’s. She’s prickly and cold towards him but he knows it’s not because of him and it’s just a testament of her personality. It might seem like she’s not trying to do much on the Thor front but Bruce has made sure they all know how much she’s been working with him and how difficult they’re both finding things.

With Bruce gone and Natasha, Rhodey and Clint busy, Steve and Tony find themselves alone most of the time they spend at the Compound. They normally have breakfast together and then cook dinner after both of them get home by the evening. During the day Steve is mostly gone to therapy and then group. He’s become a lot more involved with the non-profit that runs the sessions and he’s told Tony he’s been thinking of taking a couple of their counseling courses.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever want to lead a group but I think it would be useful as a leader to learn more about these things,” Steve told Tony over dinner once.

Tony, on his part, has been working hard on reestablishing the Maria Stark Foundation on the east coast. Pepper used to handle most of it from Malibu but the increased attention that Stark Industries has needed for the past few months has caused some of the charity’s work to go stale. 

Tony doesn’t feel quite ready to step back into SI work yet but involving himself in the organization his mother started makes him feel a little more at peace, a little more grounded.

The days pass slowly but the weeks fly by and before Tony even realizes it he’s celebrating his 49th birthday. 

There was once a time when he didn’t think he would make it to this age. There once was a time -very recently, he’s not going to lie- when he desperately wished he wouldn't make it to this age. 

No one could be more shocked than him to find that, now that the time has actually come, he actually feels grateful and happy he’s made it.

He spends all day at the Compound, starting off his morning early by walking into the kitchen and seeing Steve, Rhodey and Natasha all waiting for him there. 

There is no grand entrance, no over-the-top greeting, just his best friends enveloping him in a hug one by one and smiling happily at him as they wish him a happy birthday. They share breakfast together, all having a piece of some matcha cake that Natasha has been obsessed with lately and that Tony immediately loses his mind over.

They don’t separate after they’re done. 

Instead, they all move towards the living room and Tony receives a few gifts from them even though he had told them he didn't want them to get him anything. They’re not outrageous gifts but they’re all thoughtful and personal and Tony cherishes them as he has cherished every single true gift he has ever received in his life. There have been a lot fewer of them than a lot of people might think. 

By noon Pepper video-chats him to wish him a good day and Tony goes into his workshop to take the call. 

It’s been over 6 months since their break up happened and their interactions haven’t quite recovered yet. Their friendship hasn't quite recovered yet. 

Tony knows it’s no one’s fault, really. They’ve both been so busy and in need of putting their attention on other issues that they haven’t been working as hard on reestablishing themselves, on remodeling their relationship after trying so hard and so long to fit in all the wrong ways. 

They’ll be okay, Tony knows. 

And maybe that is also part of why they haven’t been prioritizing the issue. Both of them know there is nothing that could quite break the two of them truly apart. It’s an unspoken thing. A given promise. 

Clint joins Natasha, Rhodey, Steve and Tony for lunch and Tony can see in everyone’s faces how baffled they are. 

He’s been avoiding everyone at the Compound especially hard since his hearings started and considering his thoughts on Tony on a good day no one would have bet on him joining them to celebrate the man himself.

He stays silent throughout lunch as they all eat the food Rhodey specially ordered from the little Italian place they used to visit all the time when they were both at MIT. The restaurant has miraculously stayed open all these years and the first bite of Eggplant Parmigiana brings Tony back a good thirty something years. 

When they’ve all finished eating Tony notices Steve giving one of FRIDAY’s cameras a very conspicuous look. He’s trying to be subtle and sly about it but when he turns his head to look back at Tony he blushes as he sees Tony with one of his eyebrows raised in enquiry. 

Just a second later the lights dim and Natasha’s voice comes from the short hallway that leads from the kitchen to the living room area. 

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.”

Rhodey’s voice joins Natasha’s and Tony can’t help but burst out laughing at the exaggerated redemption of the song Rhodey is trying to perform. It’s chaotic and ridiculous even with only three voices -Steve having joined them now- performing the song. None of them are good singers but Tony supposes he should appreciate the gesture. 

(He does. He really, truly does.)

There are actual lit candles on top of a simple looking cake. There is no frosting on it, no special designs or decorations. Tony’s well-versed enough in the art of expensive and professionally made food to know this cake isn’t. It looks home-made. And considering how hard Steve is avoiding looking directly at it it’s not difficult to guess who must have made it. 

Tony’s heart flutters funnily in his chest and he has to bite his bottom lip to stop a grin from overtaking his face. 

Tony blows off the candles as he looks at Steve’s, Rhodey’s and Natasha’s grinning faces. His only thought as the fire flickers out is how he just wants to see more of that joy painted on their faces everyday. 

When Rhodey is serving the cake on small dessert plates Clint declines his by abruptly standing up from his seat. Natasha glares at him but Clint starts moving away from the table and heading for the exit. 

He stops on the threshold to the hallway and before he leaves he turns his upper body back towards the group.

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

He’s gone before Tony has even had a chance to assimilate the words. He still isn't sure if he dreamed Clint using his given name or not. 

It’s not an apology yet but it feels like an important step forward nevertheless. 

It seems like Natasha, Rhodey and Steve want to make the most out of this day because as soon as they’re done putting away the leftover cake in the fridge they guide Tony towards one of the big recreational rooms of the building. It’s the cinema room and Tony isn't sure it’s ever been used since the construction of the Compound. 

The four of them spend the next four hours there. 

Rhodey falls asleep only fifteen minutes into the first movie. His neck is bent at a weird angle so Tony carefully places a pillow behind it. He knows Rhodey way too well at this point and he can already picture him tomorrow complaining about the pain while denying it having anything to do with his age. 

Natasha grows restless by the beginning of the second film and goes to find her computer so she can type away on it as the movie plays. The clicking of her fingers against the keyboard is a little distracting at first but it soon becomes soothing and Tony assimilates it as background noise. 

Steve pays attention to the movies playing from second one of the first one until the last of the credits rolls on the second one. He’s sitting right next to Tony, sharing a beanbag with him that Tony thinks must be very expensive in order to be this comfortable. 

Tony himself is engrossed in the movie playing in front of him right until the moment he realizes how close to Steve he’s actually sitting.

It’s like a switch has been flicked on and the light is now illuminating every single part of Tony’s body that is in contact with Steve. 

There’s his right knee pressed into the side of Steve’s left thigh because of how Tony’s leg is bent. There’s the back of his right hand resting casually on Steve’s hip, where his soft grey t-shirt is riding up a little. It’s their shoulders pressed together, Tony supporting Steve and Steve supporting Tony. It’s Tony’s hair almost brushing Steve’s forehead in a way that Tony knows would be ticklish if he moved just an inch. 

Tony can’t unsee it now, it’s everything he can focus his attention on. It’s maddeningly distracting.

Because of how hard he’s concentrating on just Steve Tony catches Steve’s eyes as soon as Steve turns his head towards him. Their gazes lock and Tony has to swallow harshly and will himself not to blush too strongly at being caught staring. Based on the heat he can feel building up on his cheeks he knows it doesn’t work. 

“It’s over,” Steve says. His voice is so low Tony knows he wouldn’t be hearing it if not for their really close proximity. 

Steve’s words confuse Tony, who frowns. “What?”

Steve turns his body slightly to the left so he’s facing Tony better instead of just laying next to him. 

“The movie. It’s over,” Steve explains. 

“Oh,” Tony exhales. 

He moves his eyes to the screen for a second and indeed, the last of the credits are just rolling upwards, leaving the screen completely black. 

“You weren’t paying any attention, were you?” Steve asks.

Tony turns his head back to gaze at him and finds himself more affected by their proximity now. 

Before, he didn’t have the full strength of Steve’s attention on him and he could pretend the staring he was doing was innocent and harmless. But with Steve aware of it it feels dangerous and risky, like he was doing something wrong and forbidden.

He tries to think of something to say, something to diffuse the tension he can feel building up inside him. It’s a fruitless effort and after five or so seconds he’s still drawing a blank. 

It’s Steve who ends the silence. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

His tone is teasing, light and his eyes are warm and inviting. 

Steve has a gift for making Tony feel safe even when the joke is at his expense or when he should be feeling uncomfortable. With other people and in other situations Tony feels the need to hide and perform but with Steve it’s always the truth and nothing else.

Perhaps that’s where his bout of bravery comes from. Maybe it’s because of how brave Tony thinks Steve has always been that he feels like he should match him. Maybe he’s always just trying to be worthy of someone like Steve. 

Tony moves his left arm carefully, the one he doesn't have pressed down into the beanbag. He extends it until his hand is hovering just inches away from Steve’s face. Nothing in Steve’s expression hints at any sign of unease so Tony lowers his hand slowly until it cups the side of Steve’s face, his cheek. 

“Well,” Tony says as he rubs his thumb back and forth through the roughness of Steve’s cheek. “The stubble is new.”

And it is. Tony has never seen Steve with this much facial hair before. 

Since living together at the Compound, Tony has started seeing Steve more unkempt that he ever had before, even during the time the Avengers had all lived together at the Tower. 

Back then, it had been obvious that Steve had been going to great lengths to always appear as kept together and proper as possible. In the past year or so Tony has watched Steve grow more comfortable and free in that aspect. 

But there is a difference in watching Steve walk in during breakfast still unshaved and with his hair a little longer that he’s ever worn it, and knowing he must have gone at least three days without shaving to already have this much beard. 

Tony’s hand tickles. He is now rubbing his whole palm against Steve’s cheek and not just his thumb and the hairs on his arm bristle at the full contact. It’s a pleasant feeling and Tony can’t deny that he’s been thinking about how Steve’s stubble would feel tot he touch for the past three days. 

Steve leans into the touch for a second and he chuckles as his eyes close. His laugh is short but it sounds real and free, like such a simple moment is making him truly happy.

“You didn’t see me with my full-on Nomad beard, did you?” Steve asks. 

“What?” Tony asks as Steve opens his eyes again and meets Tony’s gaze.

“That’s what Sam used to call it,” Steve explains. “Natasha said it was just an above-average kept lumberjack beard, though.”

“Oh,” Tony says. “I did _not_ see you with that beard but now I’m praying there are some pictures.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve denies, shaking his head a little bit and moving Tony’s hand with it. 

“Why do you have to hurt me this way, Steve? Why?” Tony dramatizes. 

Steve chuckles and Tony bites his lip even though he knows there is no way to hide the big smile that has already overtaken his face.

“I don’t think there’s any pictures, sorry,” Steve apologizes.

Tony sighs dramatically as he pats Steve’s cheek. “I guess you’ll just have to grow it again so I can see it.”

“Do you want me to?” Steve asks very seriously and the question paralyzes Tony.

“I—” he stumbles over his answer. “I want you to do what you want to do.”

“Hmmm,” Steve seems to think about it carefully as he strokes the cheek that doesn’t still have Tony’s hand on it.

When it seems like he’s thought things through and come to a conclusion he brings his hand to cup Tony’s on his cheek and, once again, he leans into the touch. He goes so far as to tilt his head to his right and closes his eyes once again. 

“I guess…” Steve murmurs. “I guess I can hold off on shaving for a little while longer.” 

Tony bites his lip for a second and then lets go of it gently and he finally allows a smile to take over his face, giving up on trying to hold it back anymore.

“That’ll be nice to see.”

Tony hasn’t even finished saying the sentence completely when Rhodey’s voice is heard from the right to them, so loud compared to the tones of voices that Steve and Tony have been using. 

“Wait, when did the movie finish?”

He sounds groggy and disoriented and his question makes Tony move away from Steve quickly as if he had just been scolded for it. It’s a reflex, an instinct, and Tony immediately feels a flash of guilt. He isn’t sure if it comes from how close to Steve he had been or from how fast he’s moved away from him. 

The action proves to be irrelevant when Tony turns to look at Rhodey and it’s obvious he’s not entirely aware of his surroundings yet. He’s still more asleep than awake and he’s squinting his eyes in the direction of the now blank screen.

“That was actually the second movie, Rhodes.”

Hearing Natasha’s voice is a lot more surprising than hearing Rhodey’s. 

Tony had completely forgotten she was here for a minute and although a lot of Natasha’s whole being resides on making herself invisible and unassuming whenever she desires to be it makes Tony feel unsettled even to this day. Especially because this time he doesn't think it had been her choosing to blend into the background. Tony had simply been completely enraptured in Steve and oblivious to the rest. 

And it’s obvious as soon as he takes a clean look at her that she has witnessed his entire interaction with Steve. It’s also obvious that she knows Tony had been lost in their bubble and hadn’t thought they had any audience for it. 

Tony’s heart stops beating for a second inside his chest. 

Rhodey’s voice interrupts Tony’s thoughts this time. 

“I guess I’m getting too old for this,” Rhodey jokes as he gets up from the couch. He bends his waist a little back and forth and then to the sides, making his back crack. 

Natasha follows suit and she closes her laptop that had been previously resting on her thighs before standing up as well.

“I think we all are,” Natasha confirms. 

She stretches with her laptop in one hand and her back cracks, making Rhodey wince a little despite the fact that he had just done the same only seconds before. 

“Let’s go to bed, Rhodey,” Natasha instructs as she walks closer to him and clasps his shoulder.

Rhodey nods as they turn towards the door together and start walking to leave the room. Natasha looks over her shoulder at Steve and Tony before her and Rhodey cross the threshold of the door.

“Night, boys,” she calls out to them.

Rhodey murmurs something under his breath but Tony doesn’t catch it, too focused on the look on Natasha’s face as she looks directly at him. 

Her gaze is louder than any words in the world could be.

She turns away promptly and soon enough her and Rhodey have left the room, leaving behind Steve and Tony still laid down on the bean bag chair, only this time there is a little more space between their bodies.

“We should probably, um,” Steve stutters and clears his throat, his gaze still focused on where Natasha and Rhodey had been only seconds before. “Maybe go to bed, too.” 

“Yeah, sure, yeah,” Tony confirms as he starts getting up.

He stumbles as he tries to put all his weight on his right arm and it doesn’t hold, having fallen asleep from Tony resting all his body on it for probably hours.

“Careful,” Steve warns as he gets quickly and gracefully to his feet. 

From his vantage point from above Tony Steve offers him his hand so he can get to his feet. Tony stares at it for half a second before caving and grabbing a hold of it, Steve taking most of the brunt of his weight and pulling him up. The move leaves Tony only an inch or so away from Steve, their hands still together and their chests almost but not quite touching. 

Tony takes a step back but he doesn’t second guess it much when he keep a hold on Steve’s hand to pull him along behind him as he exists the room. 

“Let’s go,” Tony says. “I don't want to admit it but Rhodey might be right. This might be the birthday that has made me too old for all this.”

Tony doesn't see Steve’s face as he chuckles while they walk but a warmth still spreads through his chest at the sound of it.

 

_______________________________

 

Tony stops walking only when they reach his bedroom door, and Steve halts to a stop beside him, their hands hanging between them, still intertwined. 

The door is closed and Tony turns his back to it, trying to rest casually against it. His air of nonchalance doesn't appear to fool Steve, however, who doesn't comment on it but does raise an inquisitive eyebrow. 

Tony clears his throat and tries to collect his thoughts. 

There’s been something plaguing him for weeks now, something he’s grown more and more desperate to do. It’s consumed his every waking moment and he’s embarrassed to admit that it’s even made it into his dreams once or twice during the past month. It had been something he had thought of before but in the past few weeks it’s grown so unavoidable that he wonders how it’s possible that Steve hasn't picked up on it before.

“There’s something that I…” Tony starts and then backtracks. “Would you mind coming in for a second so I can give you something?” 

Steve stays silent for a few seconds and his face is so blank Tony can’t read him at all. 

Is he thinking about it deeply, trying to come to a decision? Is he looking for the words to deny Tony best? Does he suspect anything at all or is he trying to guess at Tony’s mysteriousness?

“Sure, Tony,” Steve ends up accepting finally and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of Tony’s chest and shoulders. 

He lets go of Steve’s hand when he turns around to open the door to his bedroom and he walks inside, hoping Steve is following him in. He turns his head a little bit to check and is relieved to find Steve only a few steps behind him. Steve stops shortly to half-close the door behind him and turn up the brightness of the room through the switch next to the door before Tony has to ask FRIDAY to do it. 

Steve extends his arm and points to Tony’s bed. 

“Can I sit?”

“Of course. Yes. Sure.” Tony nods as he steps aside, as if clearing the path for Steve even though he has more than enough room to get closer to the bed. 

Steve sits on the middle of the mattress, leaving almost exactly the same space to his right and to his left. Tony is so nervous he is doing worthless calculations like that in his head just to keep his mind busy, just to keep his mind from conjuring up a thousand awful scenarios where things turn out awfully for him. 

_It’s so stupid_ , he thinks. _That I feel so nervous._

It’s not the first time he’s done this, but perhaps it’s because of that that he’s so anxious now. 

He really feels in his bones the rightness of the moment, the sheer perfection of the timing. Where before he had been working against all odds he thinks this is the moment he needs to finally get it right.

Without saying another word to Steve Tony starts walking towards his walk-in closet. Steve doesn’t call out to him, just stays behind sitting on his bed, waiting patiently as his eyes follow Tony across the room.

When Tony picks up the Captain America shield it feels both heavier and lighter than it has ever been before.

It’s cold to the touch even though it hasn’t seen the outside of Tony’s closet in months, since that night sometime in late summer of last year when Steve had so politely refused to take it back.

_“I’m not ready yet,”_ Steve had said.

There’s only one way to know if after so many months, so much work, so many conversations, ups and downs and in-betweens, Steve has changed his mind. 

Tony walks out of the walk-in closet with one of the shield’s leather straps placed on the crook on his arm and the other one gripped tightly on a fist with his hand. 

The gasp Steve lets out at the sight is so low that Tony sees it more than hears it. It’s all in Steve’s body language: it’s in the way his shoulders tense and come up from where they had been slumped, in the way his fists tighten around Tony’s sheets, in the way his mouth falls open in surprise but he rapidly closes it as he swallows harshly. 

Tony stops walking when he’s standing right in front of Steve, almost right between the V that his thighs form. 

Steve’s eyes keep moving back and forth from the shield to Tony’s face, never holding eye contact for long. It’s a second on the shield and a second on Tony’s eyes, two seconds on the shield and half a second of Tony’s lips. 

His hesitation is so palpable it can almost be seen as a physical manifestation taking up the whole bedroom but Tony can’t put his finger on why the reason for it is. Is the reluctance due to fear? Is it an awkwardness born from Tony’s gesture? 

Tony could try to do this without words, he could let his actions speak and leave Steve with all the weight of finding the right words. And if not the right ones then at least just _some_ words. But there’s so much he can say, so much that has been building up inside him for months and that it’s all for Steve. 

Focusing his gaze on the crown of Steve’s head during one of the moments that Steve’s eyes are focused on the shield, Tony starts to talk, his voice unwavering, his speech unplanned but flowing perfectly once he gets going. 

“Months ago you told me that you weren’t ready for this, that you weren't ready to take it back.”

Tony moves the arm in which he’s holding the shield even though it is unmissable that it is what he’s talking about. 

“And although I could see how much that hurt you, I understood. I saw it too. I saw that you weren't in a good place and I wanted to help but I think you made the right decision. You made the right call.”

Steve is still not looking at him but a movement rakes through his whole body and Tony realizes it was Steve letting out a deep breath. His hands shake and his lips tremble a little but when he finally looks up at Tony his eyes look clear and focused, his face bright, as if he’d just gotten rid of a torturous pain that had been clawing him up inside for so long. 

Tony doesn’t need Steve to confirm what it’s obvious to him now: he’d been feeling guilty for refusing back the shield. He’d been feeling guilty for not taking back Captain America. Steve had put _Steve Rogers_ first and that had been killing him up inside. 

“So many things had happened to you then and so many things have happened since then and I just… I feel like this is the right time. Now. Finally.”

Tony takes a tiny step forward, until the shield is grazing Steve’s knees where he’s seated. 

“I don’t want you to think that just because I’m offering that means you’ve got to take it,” Tony clarifies.  “Just like the first time this is only an offer, not an imposition. But I also don’t want you to think that if you accept it that means you need to go back to being Captain America right away.”

A small frown forms between Steve’s eyebrows.

“The Avengers haven’t been truly active in a long time. Hell, Iron Man hasn’t been truly active in a while. Sometimes I feel the need to go out and be Iron Man because it is who I am but… I still can’t go to how things were before. I guess I’ve evolved. Tony Stark _and_ Iron Man, we’ve evolved.”

_I am Iron Man_ , Tony has said thousands of times since everything that happened in Afghanistan. 

But being Iron Man has meant so many different things during the years and maybe, these days, being Iron Man isn’t so much about what he thinks he needs to do, about what he feels he owes the world, but about what won’t kill him in the process. 

Maybe it’s time Steve starts thinking in similar terms for Captain America. 

“Steve, you _are_ still Captain America, even out of the suit. Even without the shield. That doesn’t mean you have to go charging back into battle. Not any single one of them,” Tony says and he wills Steve not to move his eyes away from his. He needs him to see, to understand that Tony means every single word of this.

“It’s not in what you do but who you are. I’ve seen you fight to get better, fight with yourself, your emotions, your demons. That’s much more difficult than facing the bad guys. Believe me I know,” Tony points out.  “I’ve seen you make mistakes and apologize and try to make amends. I’ve seen you support people through their bad times and now I’m finally seeing you let other people support you through your own. I’m not giving you the shield back because I think you’re nothing without it, I’m giving it to you because even without it you’re everything and that’s why you deserve it.”

If Tony had to describe Steve’s expression in a single term after his words that would be bewilderment. Which Tony can’t help but feel too at the thought that maybe Steve has never truly known -or believed, at least- any of the things Tony is telling him. 

But slowly Steve’s face starts to shift and although some shifts are too quick for Tony to catch he can see that much of it has to do with Steve processing everything that’s happening. Steve’s truly thinking things through and although Tony isn’t privy to Steve’s private thoughts he hopes Steve is at least being kind to himself and everything he’s been through.

“This is not a commitment you can’t handle, Steve. It’s just what you’re owed,” Tony insists as he keeps watching Steve’s struggle and resolution. 

“But it’s still your choice,” Tony whispers as he pulls his arm out from the leather straps and holds the shield from its edge with his hands. He brings it forward towards Steve. An offering but not exactly a gift. Maybe a surrendering of sorts. 

“Just give me the word and this can go back to where it came from and we’ll try it again some other time. Or say the word and it’s yours again. Not that it ever stopped being.”

Steve doesn’t actually say a word. 

He stands up, forcing Tony back a little bit so they don’t collision as Steve moves. In just a few seconds Steve’s face has transformed and there’s something familiar about his look but also something completely novel. This is Steve’s _Captain_ look in a brand new light. 

With arms shaking but a completely resolute face, Steve takes the shield from Tony and brings it close to his chest. He doesn’t hold it in the way he would do for battle or for real use, he holds it like someone might clutch a loved one after years apart. Like someone who’s gotten a part of themselves back. 

Yet Steve’s eyes haven’t strayed from Tony’s even as he’s taken the shield.

Something breaking and reshaping itself. Perhaps now, finally, for good. 

“Thank you,” Tony says.

It could be seen as weird or backwards that Tony is the one thanking Steve for something he has given him but it’s obvious that Steve understands Tony’s words. 

This was the last thing from another life, from another time between them. It hadn't been keeping them from starting anew and building something stronger but it does feel like a rebirth for Tony that, in his birthday, he can look back on his life and realize there isn’t one thing he could change that he hasn’t worked hard on improving. 

There isn’t a reversal for the Decimation, Tony has come to terms with that no matter how much it hurts. 

But seeing Steve cling to his shield, having him right in front of him and knowing him, truly _knowing_ him after so long, it proves to Tony that even from the darkest and most difficult times things can grow and blossom, things that you never imagined. Things that you never knew you wanted and now you can’t imagine who you’d be without them. 

There isn’t a reversal for the Decimation but maybe that doesn’t mean Tony can’t fix the world anyway.

“Thank you,” Tony repeats and he knows this time his voice sounds afflicted.

Steve hugs the shield tighter and gives Tony a blinding smile. 

“Happy birthday, Tony,” Steve whispers. 

For the first time in forever Tony feels like he’s just given himself the best gift of them all.

 


End file.
